a little coffee

Last weekend, four of us foreign teachers went to the neighboring town of Li Zhou for a school thing. Our university was vague about it, but what I do know is that the university has “a relationship” with No. 11 Middle School.  What this means for us is whenever the schools feel like it, they tell us we’re going to Li Zhou (for a whole weekend this time) to talk to the English students while posing for a variety of publicity video and photographs that make the schools look fancy pants because of the foreigners. Woo.  There goes the weekend.

So we’re out the door by 7 (on a Saturday) to spend four hours talking to four different English classes.  As the Doodles do, they tell us nothing about what we’re supposed to, what they expect from us besides a “tell stories or an activity.”  Quickly we find that both are impossible for most of the students because some have only studied English for half a year and require a teacher-translator to convey a simple sentence,” I like Chinese food.” Oy.  I spent that class being stared at.  But the other three, who had had descent English, were much better.  They were inquisitive and enthusiastic, throwing out all manner of questions- some of which I doubt they even understood, which I suspect they asked because the teacher told them to: “Who is your favorite star?”  ”What is your favorite animal?”  ”What do you want to be?”  ”Will you sign my paper”  (What, like an autograph?  Moi?)  

Between classes and lunch, we had the oppurtunity to meet with the school’s English teachers (all women but one) and the city’s director of Education (or some such thing).  This was good.  Chris, Robert and I took the time to (professionally) air a lot of our grevances with how China approaches language learning.  Robert said it best with “backwards.”  The emphasis is put on memorizing vocabulary words so learning to use and structure a language (with helpful grammar tools) gets pushed aside.  As does listening and speaking. “Make them talk, make them talk!” Chris and I said.  ”Games!  Activities!” we cheered.  Now I wonder if they’ll actually take our advice.

And then came to food!  Two BIG lunches and a sizable dinner and we were rolling in Doodle food heaven.  All those dishes that mystify us because they’re prepared in impossible sauces that make broccoli taste like garlic heaven instead of stinky feet.  The meals included plenty of toasting and beer drinking (the Doodles nearly forced us into drunkenness at Saturday lunch but we held firm because we had two classes to teach afterwards).  This is also when Chris and I ate our first little scorpions.  They had the crunch and taste of buttered popcorn!

Sunday began at 7 AM again.  No. 11 Middle School’s principal insisted on “making our dreams come true” by taking us to the Red Flag Canal.  An impressive canal built by hand during Mao’s reign to bring water from neighboring Shaanxi Province to the people of very dry Li Zhou in Henan Province.  What the “dream” included was a bus full of students we met the day before.  And a camera man to film the whole exciting adventure.  I put on my sunglasses, made snarky comments, dodged the cameraman and ignored everyone for the better half of the morning because, once again, the Doodles, shamelessly, used their “foreign friends” to puff themselves up- without even giving us a heads up first.  Sigh.  Nearly eight months here and I should have seen this coming.  No, it wouldn’t be a nice walk around a mountain like we’d been led to believe, but work and a very unwanted photo op.  This is one of my biggest peeves with the Doodles.  They use you.  And will almost never tell you why or what for, especially in advance.  (I haven’t figured out if it’s because the underling translator doesn’t know or if they’re delibretly silent as a means of controlling the situation or… what).

We finished with the museum before driving a distance to where we would spend the next two hours on Tai Hang mountain.  A tour guide led us up a short distance and pointed out something, like the rocks or something, before Robert, fed up with the Doodle pace, took over and led the class of twenty odd gleeful 15 year-olds through a narrow, slippery passage, across a swaying suspension bridge and up, up, up! super steep inclines of stairs to the top of the mountain.  It took an hour and a half, me falling further and further behind as the cursed stairs took their toll on my woefully out of shape calf muscles (I’ve adopted a shuffle-walk the past two days to deal with the lingering tension).  Due to the physical exhaustion, my negative attitude fell away, and I willfully engaged in conversation with the students.  I could no longer deny their clear enthusiasm for the trip and for practicing English with us.  They fell in love with Robert who, though at least ten years my senior, bounded up the stairs with their spry selves.  

Only a couple flights of narrow, slippery stone stairs from the top, a pack of twit teen Doodles started bellowing “Hello!  Hello!” at me, as they do.  I had no patience for it this time, told them they were rude and NO! you cannot take my picture!  To which one of the boys yelled behind me “Fuck you!”  

More surprised that they knew these words than offended, I scampered behind my group and met them at the next resting point.  The small group quickly caught up with me and tried, anyway, to snap a picture of me and Chris (who I was sitting next to) from behind.  I walked to the opposite side, closer to the students.  Now, one of the kids approached and asked “Can I take photo?” Before I responded Chris spoke up with a beautifully loud resounding “No.  We’re busy and you are very rude.”   “Sorry, sorry,” said the embarrassed Doodle.  Ha!  take that, jerks!  

We made it to the top a few minutes later.  I forgot to enjoy the view and promptly headed back down, which only took half and hour of descending these slick stairs with shaky legs.  Victory!  We said “zai jain!” to the students and went off to lunch where we, in the Doodle tradition, imbibed much food and beer before dozing in the car on the way back to Anyang.