The weather is getting cooler, and sometimes in the morning the fog lies so thick you can't see to the bottom of the valley. Walking between the apartment buildings, the trees on each side of the sidewalk seem like sentinels. In the mornings, people appear through the fog from nowhere, and disappear just as quickly. The primary/middle school lies in a small depression, and today looked like it had disappeared completely. It is difficult to dress in the mornings because you don't know if the sun will soon appear and it will get warm, or if the clouds are going to remain socked in all day and it will get progressively colder. We have had several periods of cold weather, lasting for several days. Four layers of clothes later, we are ready for school, looking and feeling like Pillsbury doughboys. You know it is getting cold when you are sitting on the throne, seeing your breath clouding around you! So far the hardest thing has been taking showers. The bathroom is always the coldest place in the apartment, and there is no good way to warm it up. The shower is hooked directly to the hot-water heater, and there is no way to mix in cold water. There is also not enough hot water to run the shower constantly, so I turn the tap on very low and hook the showerhead over my back as I wash my hair. That way there is a little warmth running down me. Baths have been more frequent also because we have been going on picnics lately. Tariqa's class spent a day on a picnic two weeks ago, and Taalan's class was gone all day Tuesday.
Last Saturday we were roused out of bed by a knock on the door at 7:45. A friend who lives nearby wanted to know if we wanted to join his class on a picnic, leaving immediately. Tim had other plans and couldn't go, but the rest of us hopped out of bed, dressed, grabbed some bread and apples, and headed out. We were met by 25 students arrayed with walkmans, woks, pots, bags of vegetables and raw eggs, cut up meat, a live duck with feet trussed, and the universal digging tool of the Chinese peasants, a long- handled stout hoe with a blade about 4 inches wide and 8 inches long. It is roughly shaped like a long rectangle, but in slightly tapered at the end where it attaches to the handle. It is heavy enough to dig deep into the ground when swung at full length of the handle. Accompanied by much chatter and singing we headed out, walking for about a mile and a half, until we came to a small hill next to our neighboring university. We climbed the hill and descended the other side into a small valley. The group divided into three groups and scattered in all directions. Some collected small branches and dead pine needles, other visited the nearby farmhouse for buckets of water, and some remained and started chopping vegetables. The duck sat. Soon it started to drizzle, so out came the umbrellas. We were the only ones who had brought a blanket; everyone else just squatted on the ground as they worked. Since it was still very early, around 8:45, we ate some of the bread Tim had purchased from the market. Students stopped by to chat and Taalan, who had refused to put on a coat, started to complain about being cold. After lending him my coat and gloves he finally stopped demanding to go back home. After about an hour the drizzle stopped and the sun came out, and from then on he had a wonderful time.
The purpose of the digging tool soon became apparent. Into the side of the hill were dug several rectangular holes, about twice the width of the digger, a foot long, and a foot deep. In these holes, open on the downhill side, small fires were made. The hillside acted like a chimney, drawing the smoke up the hill away from your eyes. The only person who suffered from the smoke was the shortsighted soul who had placed his pit directly uphill from his neighbors. The fires were very small, fuel consisting of dried grass and pine needles, twigs and small branches, the largest being 1 inch in diameter. A wok was placed directly above the pit, resting on both sides of the hole. In it they cooked everything they had brought. A prize was to be awarded to the best food prepared. Our group had eggplant seasoned with onions, garlic and hot peppers, as well as shoestring potatoes, fried with eggs and peppers, various greens, baked sweet potatoes, several meat dishes, and lastly a wonderful soup, kept hot over the fire. The vegetables were all chopped up into quarter-inch slices and piled on their own containers until cooking. Each dish was cooked separately and then placed in Styrofoam containers to keep warm. The dishes were decorated with slices of tomatoes, preserved red berries that tasted like raspberries, and slices of sausage or vegetables. The other groups had equally tasty dishes including, yes, the now deceased but tasty duck. Taalan did his utmost to try to get its life spared, but with no success.
Tariqa spotted a little local boy who had a feathery seed head from a local grass. I found one for her and she spent the better part of an hour following him all over, trying to catch up to him and waving the feather over her head. He was scared of her, though, and wouldn't let her get near him. She had a great time anyway, climbing the hills and visiting the nearby farmhouses in her pursuit of the boy.
Before we left we introduced the foreign concept of cleaning up the trash, including old trash from previous picnics and whatnot. We came away with two huge bags full. All the students pitched in cheerfully as we scoured the place clean. On the way home, at about 2:00, Taalan and our friend stopped in at a small eating place, where there was a game of Chinese chess going on. Taalan was soon persuaded to play with a man older than Tim (that's old, you know). We continued on, leaving them behind, Taalan thinking furiously. He eventually lost, but gave a good accounting of himself. This Saturday our Chinese tutor, a first year student, has asked us to go with his class on, you guessed it, another picnic!
Tim's birthday was on Dec. 5th. We had decided to have a few of our friends over for dinner at the restaurant. We had been invited out so many times that we felt that this was a good occasion to return the favor and give the dinner for a change. Sunday morning arrived, though and we had asked only one person, a friend and fellow English teacher of mine at the primary school. Our friend Mr. Tang dropped by, so we enlisted his help with the invitations. We were not sure how many people would show up at the right place and time if we had to rely on our English to invite them. I spent the morning cleaning the apartment, as Mr. Tang said that he would invite some of the students over after dinner. Tariqa and I then caught the city bus to Xiangtan to try to find Tim a hat and sweater for his birthday.
As suppertime rolled around we still had not been able to get hold of anyone. Mr. Tang dropped by again at 4:30 and made some more phone calls. He had reserved a nice room upstairs in the restaurant, so we decided to expect 15 people. Tim and friends sang Karaoke before dinner and soon everyone turned up, 15 adults plus 5 children. We had roasted cashews, potatoes, corn and pinyon nuts, greens, tofu, a wonderful tomato and egg soup, and assorted meat dishes for the guests. It was a great feast. Taalan and I left early and were heading back to the apartment when we ran into some students. They were on their way over with a cake for Tim and some small presents. Our waiban, Ruihong, who had become a close friend, had also bought a large cake with a beautiful lotus blossom made of icing in the middle. The students soon began to pour in. Our friends from dinner came over with Tim, as well as the dean of our department and his wife. The apartment was soon wall-to-wall with people. The children were playing with a balloon, keeping it from touching the ground. Students were playing Uno, and teachers were examining the English world map. A friend's husband was going to Montreal, Canada, on an experts' exchange program in February. Ruihong is also thinking of attending college in Thunder Bay, Canada, in the coming years, and everyone wanted to see where that was.
With napkins as plates we started serving the cake. The children got the first pieces, then the older guests, students, and lastly us. Tim and I were given the last piece of Ruihong's cake, and had to feed each other pieces. Apparently it's a Chinese tradition at birthdays or other special occasions. Before the first round was over we had served all of the cake from Ruihong and 1/3 of the cake that the students had brought. Only the top tier was left by evening's end. Taalan provided the memorable event of the evening when he dropped his cake. Luckily he had dropped the same piece twice before, so there was not much icing left on it. It tumbled past the dean's wife, depositing icing on each bosom, and came to rest in the dean's lap, icing side down. After much apologizing on our part, and plenty of "Don't worry" on their part, the mess was cleaned up. Taalan was unperturbed, and continued on his way, eating the remaining cake that the dean had plucked off his lap. After a short time the teachers and the dean and his wife left. The students stayed on, playing cards, singing, and laughing. A great time was had by all. The last to leave were four of my ninth grade students, who got involved in a game of Rummicub. We were really touched by all the people who turned up to help us celebrate. Apparently this is a favorite thing to do when a foreign teacher has a birthday. Before he left, Mr. Tang asked me when my birthday was. He wanted to make sure that an even bigger party was organized for it!
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