Assorted Ramblings

This is a cabbage bigger than my head. It weighs 3kg. It also costs 30p.

Things I could do with such cheap and hefty cabbages;

• Door stops
• Free weights
• Sew the leaves together to make a statement dress
• Foam roller 
• Use the leaves to keep rain off my head
• If I am ever trapped in my apartment I will sew the leaves together, comme Icarus, and fly to freedom
• Hurl them at people wearing Uggs, diamante, and kitten heels. 

*

Occasionally, when I have the misfortune to hear Chinese pop music, I have the strange feeling that I have heard the song before. I would like to put this down to a natural affinity with Chinese. But that would be a lie. I realised that in fact it was the tune I recognised, and that many songs, children's rhymes and even Christmas carols have become Chinese pop songs. Where Aqua's Butterfly translates well, I was just plain creeped out by God Bless Ye Merry Gentlemen's rendering into mandopop. 

Then there is the somewhat frightening CCTV music channel, that pumps out epic ballads like 我爱你中国 (I love you, China) and 幸福中国 (happy China). I remain unconverted.  

*

I wish that someone told me that text books are all taunting liars and prepared me for the horrible truth that is reality. I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about. All those model conversations in your language books? They lie. 

Learning how to ask for directions seemed simple enough at the time, only hampered by my own inability with the cardinal directions. "Excuse me, where is the library?" I'd ask the friendly passerby, "Straight ahead, then turn left", the amiable reply would come. OR SO YOU THINK.

I was looking for a particular room in my university campus, and decided to ask for help. I asked two different people, both were dead-ends. And not metaphorical dead-ends. Oh ho ho ho ho no. Two separate, different people pointed me down routes that were literal cul-de-sacs; one was blocked up by dusty boxes and was clearly in disuse, the other by A LARGE METAL GRATE. 

Of course, at this point, you may say, maybe you misunderstood their instructions? Maybe I did, but they also pointed. If I managed to misinterpret the 'point' I will throw my arms up in resignation and admit to being the worst linguist that ever was or will be. As far as I'm aware, it is not Chinese custom to point one way and say, "definitely do not go that way". Because that wouldn't be answering the question. 

Almost as helpful as the above advice are supermarket assistants. Imagine a huge store, innumerable aisles and signs you can't read. You approach one assistant and ask, "excuse me, where is the...". Then comes the reply "往前走" (walk straight on). Straight on doesn't really take you anywhere, because you are on the central aisle from which all the other aisles diverge. Of course, this could be allegorical advice, as in 'continue on your journey, earnest shopper, and you will soon find the item you seek'. Yeah, I will. Without your help. 

Animal encounters 遇到动物

The late Ivan (right) and Odin (left)

My first experience of purchasing pets in China didn't end well. As I learned later, buying animals cheaply comes at the expense of the animal's health; they have received substandard care and little veterinary attention. Not long after purchase these animals can die suddenly. In particular, the small dogs, kittens and rabbits bought at markets are notoriously short-lived. When I went to the Qingdao Beer Festival, a large noisy affair, I saw a man peddling rabbits on the roadside. I have never seen more pitiful, terrified animals in my life. And they were selling for stupidly cheap prices. It struck me that they were no more than the goldfish that can be won at funfairs. You expect them to die quickly. A temporary plaything.

At my nearest bus stop, it is possible to buy pet birds, which are sold next to sweet potatoes. Just in case you decide to buy a bird before you catch your bus. Handy.

Perhaps an even stranger experience was the attempt to visit a 'pet market' with a classmate. We were both interested in seeing some cats, and if possible, giving them a cheeky cuddle. It turns out that 'pet market' was the name of a dingy shop specialising in dogs, and by dogs I mean, the tiny shrill dogs that double up as accessories. Naturally the shop owner was curious as to why two foreigners had just entered his establishment, and in my haste to depart without causing embarrassment to the owner, I answered that we were more interested in cats. "What kind of cats?" he asked. "Scottish folds." I replied (yes, I can say that in Chinese. Degree win). "I have a friend who breeds them," he answered, "I'll give him a call." Next thing we know, we spend the next 10 minutes waiting in his dim shop, surrounded by the sound of yapping, breathing in the perfume of urea, to be picked up by the shop owner's friend. A while later, a car pulls up, and we get driven to a cat pet-shop. Inside, a ginger Persian (called 加菲猫, literally a 'Garfield' cat) sauntered around the shop floor. Asleep on a box was a stunning blue British short hair tomcat. The cat pet-shop owner informed us that he was his breeding tom, who had recently fathered a litter of kittens. But the kittens weren't on the premises, they were being raised at home. Who can resist a batch of kittens??? So we hopped back in this man's car and drove to his house. When we reached his compound, he told us to wait in the car with his wife, while he fetched a kitten. And this we did. He handed the tiny blue bundle of joy to us through the rear window of the car. Somehow something as innocent as looking at kittens felt like a drugs transaction. It was probably because of the shaded windows. And secret location. And kind of because we felt like hostages in the car. But anyway, we totally fell in love the kitten, and what was originally meant to be a cat reconnaissance mission became a kitten shopping trip. Oh well.

And Lo! Loki was purchased. 

Even more recently, I became the owner of a samoyed puppy. After a 2 and a half hour journey, my flatmate and I finally arrived at the assigned bus stop, on a dusty and deserted road, ready to meet the breeder. What we didn't expect is that she would arrive walking, arms full of white fur. She had brought along three A-DOR-ABLE puppies for us to choose from. So, on the street behind a bus stop, we met little Heimdall.

AARRRGH PUPPEHS

A Chinese Halloween

I'm not a particular Halloween fan (it's all about Christmas, I've been listening to carols since the start of October. No lie.), but this October I had a refreshingly novel experience. So Halloween sort of snuck up on me this year, as all the usual precursors were absent; no frilly children's costumes in the shops, a lack of fake cobwebs, a deficiency of scary movie adverts, and so on. The only omen was an abundance of small pumpkins in the supermarket. And it was much more pleasant this way. 

In fact, to find evidence of the existence of Halloween, you have to go out of your way to search for it. Dressed up as Minnie Mouse, I headed to the hidden Carnegies - a well known expat bar - for a special Halloween themed night. The decorations were great (as far as I could tell, it was very dark), and we ate our meal by candlelight. We overlooked the dance-floor, and had a clear view of the various costumes; nurses, surgeons, cowgirls, cats, vampires, Anonymous and even some elaborately dressed Victorians. They all made for a curious rendition of Michael Jackson's Thriller.  

For the fated night of Halloween itself, I owe a 'thank you' to my amazing 同学, for inviting me to her Halloween dinner party. And thus, I spent the evening with a group of dentists, which may be some people's idea of scary. When I was younger, Halloween was an inventive way of acquiring sweets. What I didn't realise is how fun it is to be inventive with food; my classmate made scary eyeballs to put in the cocktails by stuffing a pistachio into a longan. Less inventive were the sliced pigs ears, which were actually sliced pigs ears. 

土豆鬼 - mashed potato ghosts

Eyeballs for cocktails, made from longan with pistachios inside

Pumpkin hopefuls for the pumpkin carving competition

My conclusion is that Western festivals don't come to you here, you need to put in the effort and make the atmosphere yourself. It is nice not to be saturated with cheap, tacky goods, and I think much more satisfying to enjoy the fruits of your labour. Christmas 2012, here I come...