The rules

Last week, I was on the welcoming committee for a visiting professor from Sweden. Initially, I wasn't sure what my responsibilities would be, but I quickly learned that in addition to providing cultural and linguistic translation services, and of course making insightful comments on the research agenda, I was also expected to do quite a bit of drinking.

Throughout China, alcohol flows liberally when guests are in town, but Shandong locals are particularly well-known for their enthusiasm regarding this traditional form of welcome. I have learned a bit more about Chinese drinking culture since I last wrote about it here, so let me quickly bring you up to speed. You can refer to the following handy diagram to assist in your understanding of this complex ritual:

The person at the head of the table (Position 1) is the host. He is the one paying for the meal and therefore is responsible for leading the first and last toasts, and taking care of the guests. He is the most respected one at the table. The person to his right (Position 8) is the guest of honor. The food all goes to him first, and no one can eat until he starts. If there is a second guest, he sits at the host's left, in Position 2. The person directly across from the host (Position 5) is responsible for making sure the people at his end of the table are drinking enough. The other seats are filled according to status, with higher status people being closer to the host, and lower status people being closer to the senior person.

The actual drinking is very formalized, with the host starting by proposing a toast welcoming the guest. Then everyone chugs until they've emptied their glass. The waitstaff promptly comes around to refill. Then someone else proposes a toast and the process is repeated. This continues throughout the meal, until everyone is jolly and chummy. This is how professional relationships are solidified and where official contracts and agreements are born.

A few additional rules:

- You must never, ever, under any circumstances take a casual sip from your glass. If you want to drink, you either have to wait for someone else to say a toast, or you can take the initiative and propose a toast of your own. Either way, drinking must be done as a group.

- When you clink glasses with someone, you have to make a concerted effort to make sure that the rim of your glass is below the rim of their glass. This shows respect for the other person. Inevitably, this occasionally ends up being a race to the floor.

- Unless otherwise stated, all toasts must result in an empty glass. It's considered respectful to then hold up your glass to show that it's actually empty. Sometimes, you even hold it upside down to show that there's not a single drop left. If a drop falls out, you're then "punished" by having to drink another glass.

- If you get drunk before others at the table, it's a serious loss of face and can result in some disadvantageous business deals. In my opinion, this is part of why women have such a hard time ascending to positions of power in China. Don't worry about me though. I've been able to hold my own quite nicely thank-you-very-much.

The best medicine

I am thrilled to report that I have survived, unscathed, an important rite of passage on the way to adapting to life in China. It's the test that separates the weak from the strong, the men from the boys. Yes: I have made it through my first bout of Chinese food poisoning.

In hindsight, the fact that my friend and I were the only customers in the restaurant should have been a warning sign, but in our fervent desire to consume as many dumplings as humanly possible, I guess we were willing to overlook anything.

My crippling stomach pain first exhibited itself an hour later, and grew to such an intensity that it not only prevented me from getting a good night's sleep that night, but also caused me to lose the entire contents of my stomach (I'll spare you the details of how exactly that happened), and by the next morning I was a pathetic mess, severely dehydrated, undernourished, and unwilling to leave my bed except to dash to the bathroom.

Lucky for me, I live on a medical campus. All of my friends either have completed or are in the midst of their medical training. My room temporarily turned into a private hospital ward. At one point, I was lying in bed as five medical students stood over me discussing my symptoms and trying to agree on a treatment plan. Nurses ran in and out, bringing me food and water and tucking me into bed.

One thing they all agreed on right away: the road to recovery is paved with drugs. Within a few short hours, I was in possession of no fewer than five pharmaceutical products, including two mystery packets of traditional Chinese medicine, two distinct types of broad-spectrum antibiotics, and a small brown bottle of foul smelling liquid. I was able to politely decline the antibiotics, and the foul smelling liquid came up almost as soon as it went down, but the mystery packets went in and stayed in. It may be best that I never know what that white powder was, but when mixed with some hot water, it calmed me right down and finally let me nap in peace for a while.

When I woke up, my friend decided it would be a good time to introduce me to an old friend of hers who lives on a different campus, and just happened to be in the area. In fact, he was waiting right outside, and she excitedly led him into my room. I could tell right away that he was impressed by my chunky pajama pants, pink turtleneck, and vomit-crusted hair. And the look in his eyes as he looked around my room and took in the various drug wrappers, abandoned bowls of dining hall food, and clothing-covered furnishings enthusiastically said "I love what you've done with the place." After a quick introduction, my friend put him to work washing dishes in my shower, refiling my hot water bottle, and taking out the garbage. Sadly, he had to leave for class before he could mop the floor. I got the impression it was an especially interesting class though, because he seemed quite eager to show up early.

Sharing

To see the Chinese Communist spirit at work, one needs look no further than the closets of female college students. Clothing is generally considered to be communal property, to be offered to whomever needs it. You may recall how a few weeks ago, my friend brought me a stylish pink turtleneck to keep me warm in the freezing icebox that was my room. Later, I "lent" her an extra scarf that happened to match her outfit particularly well. An infrequently worn sweatshirt is currently on loan to another friend who loves playing basketball. Gloves must be offered to those without coat pockets, and hats and coats get passed around among friends and roommates. When going out with friends, it is not unheard of to show up in one coat, and to go home in another.

The latest instance of this principle at work came a few days ago. I made a vague comment about how I was in the market for a new coat, when my friend's face lit up and she exclaimed that she had the perfect thing for me: an extra down coat that she never wears. She dragged me back to the dorm with her to try it on.

I tried to control my excitement, reminding myself that it is rare to find a Chinese coat without bows, frills, or pom-poms. The stars must have been aligned that day however, because not only was the coat was a perfect fit, but it was also unadorned (except for the requisite faux fur trim of course). The best part about it though, is the subtle use of color as an attractant. My friend insisted that I borrow it, and I have been wearing it proudly ever since. As an added bonus, I have now earned a new nickname: banana.

The resemblance is uncanny.

A Chinese Thanksgiving - Part 2

Wednesday: The day before Thanksgiving

1:00 pm

My friend stops by my room to deliver the oven.


I am not surprised to learn that it dates from 1970 and has not been used since 1996.

4:00 pm

I am at the store looking for milk. The dairy section is dominated by yogurt, but I eventually find these thin canisters.


The only butter I am able to find is in tiny packet form, like the kind that restaurants throw in the basket with the complimentary pre-dinner rolls.


7:00 pm

I've started making the pumpkin pie, but the "oven" appears to have a smoking problem. I open the windows and start fanning frantically, hoping the fire alarm doesn't go off.

7:15 pm

I am partially relieved, partially disconcerted to learn that one of the Pakistanis in my dorm has conducted informal tests of the smoke detectors over the past three years, and concluded that they are for show only.

9:00 pm

The pumpkin pie is complete. The filling looks perfect, but the crust is burnt to an ashy crisp. I guess the oven is stronger than I thought.

Thursday: Thanksgiving Day

1:00 pm

I've put in half a day of work, eaten lunch and am ready to begin cooking. Some friends have already arrived. I put them straight to work opening butter packets,


peeling potatoes,


and chopping onions.


3:00 pm

The apple crisp is ready to go in the oven. Everyone is very excited.


3:15 pm

The oven appears to have died. We take turns trying to fix it.

3:30 pm

It's official: the oven is broken. Apparently the cooking action last night was a mere swan song. The apple crisp is slightly warm, but still raw.

5:00 pm

My friends have begun to arrive, bearing chopsticks and small metal bowls reminiscent of a World War II mess hall. Snacks are opened and eagerly devoured.

6:00 pm

The real eating begins. The mashed potatoes disappear instantly, and are eaten with chopsticks, as is the majority of the meal.


The pumpkin pie is popular as well, although at my urging, the crust is left untouched.


The uncooked apple crisp is received with a lukewarm reception, although everyone wants their picture taken with it.


Things get exciting when my friend reveals that she brought a bottle of brandy.


A rousing game of charades ensues.


10:30 pm

The students have curfew, so our little party must disband. There is fighting over leftovers, and a frantic last-minute cleaning effort.

Overall, an nontraditional meal, but a resounding success nonetheless.


Hope you all had a wonderful holiday as well!

A Chinese Thanksgiving - Part 1

Thanksgiving is just two days away, and since I can't spend it with my family, I plan to spend it with my new Chinese friends. None of them has ever celebrated Thanksgiving before, but all are eager to learn about this special American holiday. I am just as eager to share it, but am facing a few obstacles in my planning of the perfect Thanksgiving meal.

1. No oven. The vast majority of Chinese food is prepared on a stove top, so virtually no kitchens have ovens. This is problematic for Thanksgiving, since turkey, stuffing, pie, cookies, rolls, casseroles, and corn bread all are baked goods. Lucky for me, however, I was able to use my connections to procure a small toaster oven, and will be using that for my baking needs.

2. No baking soda or baking powder. That means no cookies, biscuits, or corn bread.

3. No cranberries = no cranberry sauce.

4. The toaster is too small to fit a bird inside, and I refuse to handle a turkey carcass anyway, so no turkey.

5. No baking pans. Anything baked needs to be placed in one of several small metal bowls.

With these five restrictions, my Thanksgiving menu has been whittled down to mashed potatoes, apple pie, and pumpkin pie (made from an actual pumpkin - no canned stuff here). I will also be buying some baked sweet potatoes - a Jinan specialty. In lieu of the turkey, I thought I'd make a hearty vegetable soup.

This all seems semi-acceptable until you look at my guest list. Turns out, I have a lot of friends. There's the woman who lent me her oven and her two friends - that's three. Then my grad student friends - seven. Then my kung fu friend, my running friend, and my cooking friend - ten. Plus there's another kung fu friend and her five (!) roommates who really really really want to come - sixteen. Add me, that's seventeen.

So let's review. Seventeen people. A toaster oven. A hot plate. My dorm room.

Wish me luck, because I'm gonna need it.

Boys

Gender roles are a lot more pronounced in China than in the U.S. Girls rarely play sports, except for maybe a casual game of badminton or ping pong. Frills and giggles are a must. Mixed-gender friend groups are rare. Girls are also considered to be generally weak. When hiking, a boy always has to be in front so he can offer a helping hand to the girl(s) behind him. If you're a girl carrying anything besides your purse (eg. bag of groceries, books, etc.), one of the boys you're with will immediately relieve you of the burden. Attempting to refuse these offers of assistance is seen as an insult to his manhood, and is akin to a slap in the face and a kick in the groin.

Another example. When a girl and a boy walk around together, the boy will position himself so that he is closer to traffic, thus "protecting" the girl. I was unfamiliar with this rule, so last night when I was walking around with a male friend, I was confused my his constantly scampering around me as we crossed streets and generally navigated traffic. When I expressed my confusion and my friend finally explained what he was doing, I must have looked surprised, because he asked me if boys in the U.S. watched out for the girls that they hung out with. (Unbidden, an image of a dancing cowboy came to my mind. Ahem. You know who you are.) I explained that in my experience, no, not really, gender equality blah blah blah.

The funny thing is that while on the one hand, Chinese boys are making constant claims to manliness by insisting on taking care of their female friends, on the other hand, they do tons of stuff that would be considered pretty girly in the U.S., like posing for cutesy photos, sporting sparkly charms on their cell phones, and having stuffed animal key chains.

And yet... One of my new friends just posted a series of male-centric "jokes" on the Chinese version of facebook, including this gem:

Guy 1: Aren't there any virgins on this campus?
Guy 2: Yeah - but they're all the unborn fetuses of our girlfriends.

Ummm...?

It's an interesting country this is.

Shopping

Although China is famous for its large population, the Chinese themselves seem to be continuously surprised by the realities of living in a crowded country. Any excursion is guaranteed to include the phrase "Wow! So many people!" I often notice people shaking their heads when confronted with a crowd and then overhear them saying "Ugh - waaaay too many people" or asking no one in particular "How can there be so many people??" Luckily, I am culturally aware enough to nod my head wisely in response, as opposed to launching into my master's thesis on China's population issues and policies.

Why do I bring this all up, you ask? Well, both this weekend and last weekend I went shopping with some friends, bringing me face-to-face with what seemed like a non-negligible fraction of China's 1.3 billion people.



At no point during my shopping experience was I more than an arm's length away from a stranger. While out shopping, Chinese girls like to link arms, or even hold hands, something I had always thought to be a cute way of showing affection. In reality, affection has little to do with it. After about five minutes in the market, I was clinging to my friends for dear life, fearful of being swept away and lost in a maze of small clothing stalls.

Despite the crowds, I was able to make several successful purchases to help ease my transition into the world of Chinese fashion.

- blue plastic backpack. Although my friend encouraged the purchase of a backpack with a classy "Snoopy" design, I politely declined in favor of something a bit more conservative.

- brown boots with pom-poms. These were a steal at only $7. Nevertheless, I noticed when I brought them home that they're not exactly the same height. Oops.

- black "mop" scarf. So named because of its uncanny resemblance to the common household cleaning implement.

- gray skirt with pleather detail and fake pockets

While I admit that I initial harbored some misgivings about how my new outfit would be received, I was overwhelmed by the number of compliments I received when I wore it yesterday. Apparently pom-poms and pleather are in this year.

You heard it here first.