My chopstick skills aren’t as strong as I thought. While I was eating lunch in the school cafeteria, a server came over to my table, smiled and handed me a plastic spoon. I think it was a polite way of saying, “White men look foolish using chopsticks.’’
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Today was Teachers’ Day in China. Students honor their teachers by giving them gifts like flowers and fruit baskets. Our administrative assistant Amber, who is also a graduate student at Henan University, took her supervisor Brenda to lunch. I didn’t have any classes today, so I missed out on the celebration. When I taught journalism at Rutgers University, I never received any flowers or fruit baskets. Not even an apple.
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As I walked to class the other day, I saw a strange sight: young people standing outside the building talking loudly to themselves. No, they weren’t deranged homeless orphans. They were students practicing their English. Students are taught to talk out loud as often as possible so they can improve their speaking ability.
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My friend Damian, who is teaching in China for the second time, offered some additions to my list of quirky English names adopted by Chinese students: Hawaii, Mimosa, Clever, Pampers, Plastic Bag, Israel and Walex, a company that makes bathroom sanitation products.
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Yesterday I met Susie, the associate dean of the Journalism & Communications Department. She said about 600 students are studying print and broadcast journalism at the university. In light of the state’s control and censorship of the Chinese media, I asked her if journalism students are taught not to criticize the government. “We teach them to report the story in a fair way,’’ Susie said. “No opinion, just the facts.’’ What a concept!
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The street in front of my apartment building is lined with food vendors who cater to university students. They grill your food right in front of you, mostly rice and noodle dishes, and you can eat it right there at a small table or take it with you in a cup or plastic bag. It’s tasty and cheap. You rarely pay more than six yuan, which is 98 cents.
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Finding a size 13 sneaker in Zhengzhou is harder than finding the Loch Ness Monster. Chinese people are small, and so are their shoes. One of my sneakers has a giant hole in it, so I’ve been looking for a new pair. So far, the largest size I’ve seen is 10½. I’m going to try my luck at one of the big shopping malls. If that doesn’t work, I may have to buy a pair online and have them shipped to me. Wonder where Yao Ming gets his sneakers.
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Just a few steps from my apartment building is Dennis Fresh Mart, a combination of 7-Eleven, CVS, Staples and a mom-and-pop grocery store. All the necessities of life in one convenient place. Where else (besides a Chinese Walmart) can you find pots and pans, towels, slippers, power strips, shampoo, notebooks, pens, dishes, garbage cans, lamps, chopsticks, fresh vegetables, meat and fish, hairbrushes, candy, hangers, and wine, beer and soda?
When I was visiting a friend in Hong Kong years ago, we went to a fancy department store where her maid’s son worked in the shoe department, and so could get us a discount. The salesman took one look at my size 10 feet and burst out laughing. Good luck with the hunt. P.S. Erik and Daisy say hi!