I'm not too impressed with the textbook I'm working with at school. No doubt it's a labor of love on somebody's part but it consists mostly of short readings that appear to have been culled from some 1950's Readers Digests or something. Sentimental stuff, short heart-warming stories, overwrought prose, and hammy old jokes, that kind of thing. 

One story was about a man in a bar with a singing frog. That reminded me of the classic Warner Brothers cartoon featuring Michigan J. Frog, which I decided to share with the students because of its cultural importance. There is also a website devoted to this cartoon. 

One of the resolves I took to China with me was the determination to be open-minded about trying food that Westerners aren't accustomed to eating. For years, we've eaten dim sum in Vancouver's Chinatown but we always gave the chicken feet a pass. 

So when I was a guest at a luncheon buffet, I thought I might as well check that one off the list -- okay, I've tried chicken feet. No big deal, really. These feet were gently poached and easy to come to terms with. I've since picked up, and put down, chicken feet that were a little tougher. 

Did you ever ask yourself how even a place as prosperous as North America could provide enough chicken wings for Superbowl Sunday?  Do they have mutant chickens somewhere with four sets of wings? What is the chicken-to-people ratio in the U.S.?  Okay, I just looked it up. But on the other hand, we don't eat chicken feet. And guess what?  We sell them to China:

“China is a good market for certain items that are not of high value in the domestic market.... Chicken feet and wing tips may be worth a few cents per pound in the domestic market but can sell for many times this amount in China," says Virginia's Secretary of Agriculture, celebrating the news that China has just lifted a ban on poultry imports from the state of Virginia.

The grocery stores here have display cases heaped with items I can't identify, some of which frankly does not look appetizing to me. I mean things in the preserved-egg or pickled vegetable line. I don't get very adventurous when buying groceries because I wouldn't know what to do with it once I bought it. On the other hand, there are lots of baked goods to resist, which is something I didn't expect. Incidentally the two foods I miss the most are mustard and cheddar cheese.

Another food oddity is sea cucumber. My students explained that it's considered to be very good for you, but it's quite expensive. I saw sea cucumber for sale, under lock and key, at a grocery store. Some restaurants also feature sea cucumber on their menus but in the accompanying photos, the sea cucumber looks like its been scooped out of the sea and plonked onto your plate with no culinary intervention in the kitchen. I don't know if I'm curious enough to spend the money to try it. 

Also, folks, Ross and I highly recommend this beautifully photographed television series about Chinese cuisine, "A Bite of China." I learned about this series from my students as well.

I had just arrived at my favorite shopping destination in Zibo, the Yiwu Market, about which I will blog sometime soon.  There is usually a temporary stage set up in front of the market where someone with a microphone is selling something -- I'm never sure what -- cell phone service perhaps?  This time as I walked by, I could tell that the amplified male voice was not that of a salesman. 

One of my Chinese colleagues told me that Chinese politicians deliver  speeches in a particularly dull, droning manner. They simply stand and read their speech and there is, by design, no effort at oratory.  While I can see clear evidence all around me that the Chinese government does want to woo public opinion, it seems that Chinese un-elected officials do not behave as Western politicians would do in the same situation. So, I deduced that I was listening to a government announcement of some sort and I stopped to listen, even though of course I could not understand a word, nor could I read anything on the backdrop set up behind the speakers.

There was a small crowd of about 20 people gathered around and I also spotted some  journalists with cameras and video cameras and notebooks. When the first speaker finished, there was a smattering of applause, then another official stepped up and read from his notes. I decided to get a photo so I got my cell phone out.  About that time I realized that the journalists who were circling around getting crowd shots, noticed me, and moved in to film me.  I was planning to clap politely and move away, when the assistants to the officials noticed the journalists noticing me and flanked me.  "Hello, where are you from?" is the typical greeting from those who have a little English. 

So I stayed and politely answered the questions about where was I from, and where was I working? Meanwhile the speechmaking continued  although most of the journalists, the assistants and more and more of the spectators were watching me.  I did try to withdraw, saying that I had just stopped to look for a moment and I didn't understand it anyway, and their response was to press a batch of colored brochures  into my hand, along with a bottle of water. The female assistant official fetched the member of their team who was deemed to speak the best English.
He was a very affable fellow. He appeared to be the media or PR person for his department and he explained that the event was to announce a new taxation regime.  

As is routine in this sort of conversation, he apologized for his poor English which was course was not very poor at all, I apologized for my non-existent Chinese, which is truly non-existent. 

The last of the speeches ended and the PR man whirled around to help with the next stage of the Announcement. And that would have been a good time to leave, except that just then, the theme music from "The Magnificent Seven" started blaring from the loudspeakers. 

Reader, I'd love to tell you that I stepped up and wrote "No Taxation Without Representation" in John Hancock-sized letters, but I whiffed it. And anyway that would have been a violation of my teaching contract. I wrote, "May all taxes be spent wisely," and added my initials. 

This post is will only be of interest to people curious about what living accommodations are like in China. Also be warned that there is a bit of grumbling in this post. 

I live in a large apartment complex in a middle-class neighborhood, approximately halfway between the institute and the downtown so it's neither expensive or time-consuming to get to work or go out. A bus that goes to lots of interesting places downtown runs right by the entrance to the apartment complex. There are lots of little restaurants and a sort of farmer's market mall right next door where I can get fresh produce, fresh meat, take-away foods and also firecrackers, should I get the urge to set off a loud cacophony of whistles and bangs. This is done regularly in my neighbouhood when someone opens a store or gets married. 

However, my landlord (the designated villain of this blog) is a skinflint who provided me with one doll-sized second-hand kitchen cabinet, one ancient gas burner, one old fridge, and the most butt-numbing, back-wrenching sofa I've ever encountered. It is pretty much impossible to sit on and right now it's just being used as another horizontal surface -- that is, a place to empty out my purse and briefcase on. I don't think this is just a cultural difference, like the mattress. The Chinese like a firm mattress. I had to add a little foam mattress on top of the brand new mattress they gave me, to be able to sleep on it. But the sofa is evil. 

The apartment is a cold-water apartment on the third floor of a seven-storey apartment building that has no elevators. When I say it that way, it sounds like I am complaining but for the most part I am content to live as the people around me live. Plus, I've seen a lot of old movies and lots of romantic couples lived in cold water walk-ups. The average Chinese person does not get an elevator to whisk him upstairs and he doesn't have a clothes dryer for his clothes.  City apartment-dwellers use their balconies, whether open or enclosed, to hang their clothes to dry. The washing machine is a cute little semi-manual thing, with one tub for washing and another tub for spinning. 

When I need another big bottle of water for drinking and cooking, I phone the water delivery company and a young man bolts up the stairs with a bottle of water on his shoulder. Only 9 yuan. Other things like groceries I bring up myself, so I only buy as much as I can carry myself.

For hot water, I heat water on the stove, or in the electric kettle I just bought, or the water heater mounted on the wall in the bathroom. The shower head is gravity fed, which means there is no invigorating blast of water.  I probably use less water than I would at home, so I can think of it as being environmentally virtuous. There is no separate shower stall -- the bathroom is lined with ceramic tiles and there's a drain on the floor. 

I told the person in charge of getting me settled at the institute where I work that the toilet was not seated. It is a western style toilet, not a squat toilet, but it's just sitting on the floor, it's not secured to the floor with a wax o-ring and bolts. And furthermore, it didn't have a seat. No lid, no seat. The landlord himself, in business attire, came to deal with the problem. 

He mixed up a pail of grout and slapped it around the bottom of the toilet. This of course did not work and since the grout got wet whenever I shower, I had dirty little bits of grout everywhere for weeks until I bought a putty knife and scraped away the last bits of it. 

The landlord (dvotb) refused to provide a toilet seat since I had not made this request clearly enough. He also refused to replace the extremely second hand, acquired from a junkyard, stained bathroom sink which wiggles whenever you even lightly rest your hand on it.  And there is no mirror in the bathroom. And I'm not allowed to stick anything to the walls.

Okay, the things I like about the apartment which have nothing to do with the landlord: the neighbors are friendly and they invited me over for a bang-up dinner. I can look out my window and always see something interesting in the garden below, such as grandmothers doting on their grandchildren. It is a haven from the outside world when I'm tired and need some down time. 

And I think with a little more furniture, and some stuff stuck to the walls, it will be very nice.

*You don't come all the way to China and expect things to be exactly like home.