It's common in Shanghai to see raw vegetables, fish, fruit, fungus, and meat just sitting on trays in front of street food vendors. You just give them the skewered ingredients, and they'll grill it, add it to noodles/rice, or cook it in spicy broth for soup. It's delicious!
Most of the time, I have no idea what sort of meat I'm getting. It's small seasoned bits that usually end up being chicken meat and innards. Last night, though, I got some crunchy-chewy giblets that were really confusing to my mouth. I ate them all, though, and figured it was some animal organ that I hadn't tried before. It tasted fine, but had a bizarre texture. So, I went and asked them what it was!
Through a series of pointing and confused looks, I found out.
It was balls. Yes, testicles. I ate them. Not sure which animal.
On the bright side, it was one of the funniest hand-gesture conversations I've ever had! They thought it was hilarious.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Big fancy Chinese wedding
One of my coworkers, Aimee, got married, and almost the entire teaching staff from my school went. There was a bus to pick us up from work, which took us directly to the ritzy hotel that hosted the reception. For the most part, it was similar to American weddings. Lots of food, lots of family and friends, and lots of pictures.
Aimee changed dresses three times that day, which is symbolic of her transition from an unwed woman to joining with her husband. The groom had it a little rougher. Each table got to play a prank on him, of their choosing. I saw him eat some really inventive combinations of food, drink a scary looking mystery liquid, and light a cigarette through a 2-liter bottle. (They smoke everywhere here. Seems weird at first to see people light up in a hotel, but you get used to it.) Needless to say, the groom had kind of a rough night. The idea behind it is that their lives together start on a low point, and it only goes up from there. They handled it very well.
I had the honor of accompanying Aimee's husband in front of everyone on a traditional Chinese song. A few of my coworkers recorded it, but I don't have it yet. It was fun!
The reception was very laid back, fun, and full of craziness. There was a KTV (karaoke) contest, audience participation, quizzes, random gifts given out, and even a Gangnam Style dance contest. (If you don't know what Gangnam Style is, you can find it here. It's a silly Korean pop song that has swept the world.) Of course, that's about the only thing I got a decent picture of.
Speaking of Gangnam Style, this was in the Family Mart across the street from my apartment. I think I'd like their election coverage.
Aimee changed dresses three times that day, which is symbolic of her transition from an unwed woman to joining with her husband. The groom had it a little rougher. Each table got to play a prank on him, of their choosing. I saw him eat some really inventive combinations of food, drink a scary looking mystery liquid, and light a cigarette through a 2-liter bottle. (They smoke everywhere here. Seems weird at first to see people light up in a hotel, but you get used to it.) Needless to say, the groom had kind of a rough night. The idea behind it is that their lives together start on a low point, and it only goes up from there. They handled it very well.
I had the honor of accompanying Aimee's husband in front of everyone on a traditional Chinese song. A few of my coworkers recorded it, but I don't have it yet. It was fun!
The reception was very laid back, fun, and full of craziness. There was a KTV (karaoke) contest, audience participation, quizzes, random gifts given out, and even a Gangnam Style dance contest. (If you don't know what Gangnam Style is, you can find it here. It's a silly Korean pop song that has swept the world.) Of course, that's about the only thing I got a decent picture of.
Speaking of Gangnam Style, this was in the Family Mart across the street from my apartment. I think I'd like their election coverage.
This is what happens...
...when your students have paper, scissors, and free time after a test. You can call me Princess Tom.
The workings of fire
Just as I turned the corner to enter my apartment compound, I saw, and heard, something unexpected. There was a toddler barely old enough to run holding a stick, quickly backing away from what appeared to be the sparkler he had just lit. I was about to walk past it when it exploded.
Now, this wasn't one of those "government regulated" fireworks that is "safe" to use and "doesn't blow your thumbs off." This was an ear-smacking, pants-messing surprise that almost made my grilled veggies and rice go flying. And it was lit by a kid who couldn't have been more than two and a half. His parents were there, but still.
Now, this wasn't one of those "government regulated" fireworks that is "safe" to use and "doesn't blow your thumbs off." This was an ear-smacking, pants-messing surprise that almost made my grilled veggies and rice go flying. And it was lit by a kid who couldn't have been more than two and a half. His parents were there, but still.
Fireworks were invented in China, and it shows. They're used for weddings, parades, and, apparently, keeping your toddler entertained. At first, I thought maybe there was construction near my apartment, until I realized they were just fireworks being used for various celebrations. I've been here for two months, and I've had to temporarily stop class on account of a surprise fireworks show at least four times. Not that I'm complaining, mind you! Who doesn't like a free fireworks show now and then?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Things in China that shouldn't smell as good as they do
-Bug spray. Seriously, it would probably work as a gentle perfume, in a pinch.
-Dish soap. I've been tempted to try some, but haven't been quite that hungry. Yet.
-Napkins/TP/Kleenex. Oh, you have a runny nose? That's OK, dear, because now your face smells like lavender and apple pie.
-The Metro. Granted, there are exceptions, but for the most part it's a surprisingly well ventilated and clean place. (Except the bathrooms. We don't talk about the bathrooms.)
-Construction workers. My school is currently undergoing hefty renovation. Considering the high concentration of glue, sawdust, paint, and man sweat that's been flying around the school, I was expecting it to make my nose fall off. Nope! Flowers.
-Dish soap. I've been tempted to try some, but haven't been quite that hungry. Yet.
-Napkins/TP/Kleenex. Oh, you have a runny nose? That's OK, dear, because now your face smells like lavender and apple pie.
-The Metro. Granted, there are exceptions, but for the most part it's a surprisingly well ventilated and clean place. (Except the bathrooms. We don't talk about the bathrooms.)
-Construction workers. My school is currently undergoing hefty renovation. Considering the high concentration of glue, sawdust, paint, and man sweat that's been flying around the school, I was expecting it to make my nose fall off. Nope! Flowers.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Daily life, the universe, and everything
By request, this post is all about what it's like living in Shanghai. After being here a month I'm no seasoned veteran, but I'm getting there! Story time.
I wake up in the morning, groggily stumble to my bathroom, and turn on the shower. There's no actual bathtub or designated 'shower area.' Water comes out of a shower head that's attached to the wall, hopefully falls onto me, and runs to a drain in the middle of the floor. It's a bit awkward at first, since I could multitask and take a shower while doing any other bathroom-related activity. Sure makes cleaning your bathroom easy, though!
After turning on the shower, I realize the water is freezing, give a manly little yelp, and turn the water back off. Grumbling, I wrap a towel around myself and make my way to the kitchen, where I turn on the gas and water heater. We're not supposed to leave them on overnight, because we'll suffocate. Or explode. Or something. The rest of my morning routine proceeds normally.
I go outside, and start walking toward the metro. On my way there, I see hundreds of people, almost get run over by a scooter and a bus, and pass two street vendors inexplicably selling lace. I stop in a small restaurant and convenience store, buy a bottle of water, coffee, and a couple delicious dumplings for approximately $1.50 total.
In the metro station, I blend in with the locals by breezing by the guards at the security check who are supposed to scan my bag. I swipe my metro card, and whip out my trusty Kindle. A few metro stops and a bus ride later, and I'm at school!
After greeting the security guard and front desk people, I wade through a swarm of children and parents to the teachers' lounge. (Sidenote: kids should really have their own collective noun. There's a herd of cattle, a murder of crows, etc. I'm thinking "an anklebite of children.") I say 'hi' to all my fellow teachers, sit down, and begin preparations for the day's classes.
In this hypothetical day, I conveniently teach one class of each age group. My Small Stars class, containing students approximately aged 4-6, consists of me excitedly counting, asking the students how they are, and playing vocabulary games with flashcards. In my next class, which is full of a group of High Flyers aged 7-9ish, I juggle introducing new vocabulary and phrases with keeping the students entertained. It's a balancing act between retaining their attention over a severe language barrier, and getting them to actually learn and be productive. My final class of the day is a calm group of Trailblazers, aged 10-13. In this class, we can more naturally converse, talk about a wider range of subjects, and have extra time to explore subjects that interest the students.
After school, some friends and I decide to have a few drinks. So, I hop on the metro and make my way halfway across Shanghai to the French Concession. The trip costs $1, and puts me within easy walking distance of several bars. Worst case scenario, I text/call a very convenient service, which gives me the name and address of my desired location in both English and Chinese, and take a $3ish taxi ride from the metro stop.
The drinks are the most expensive part of my day, and cost anywhere between $2 and $11 apiece. Fortunately, I rationed myself and only brought a reasonable amount of money so that I wouldn't overspend. (Which is easy to do, since the money here still doesn't seem real to me. I know it has value, but my subconscious self still hasn't caught on.) Good thinking, pre-tipsy Tom. At some point, I decide that I'm hungry, so I walk to the nearest street food vendor. I pick up a few bamboo skewers filled with a wide selection of vegetables, raw meat or seafood, and hand it to the vendor. They grill it to perfection, season it with something delicious and spicy, and hand it back to me. At most, the meal costs about $3.
After a night of revelry, I'm forced to take a taxi back home since the metro closes at 11:00. This time, I don't need to cheat and use the address service thing. I can say where I need to go. I've been practicing. It's my moment to shine! Somehow the taxi driver can't believe what perfect Chinese is coming out of my mouth, and asks me to repeat myself a few times. I assume it's just so he can marvel at my natural, unaccented delivery.
The taxi ride back is like something out of an arcade game. The driver is pulling stunts that would get your license revoked in America, but is absolutely normal here. He weaves through traffic and pedestrians with impressive aplomb, and knows the dimensions of his car with machine-like precision. Somehow, we arrive incident-free, I walk home, and go to sleep.
The end.
I wake up in the morning, groggily stumble to my bathroom, and turn on the shower. There's no actual bathtub or designated 'shower area.' Water comes out of a shower head that's attached to the wall, hopefully falls onto me, and runs to a drain in the middle of the floor. It's a bit awkward at first, since I could multitask and take a shower while doing any other bathroom-related activity. Sure makes cleaning your bathroom easy, though!
After turning on the shower, I realize the water is freezing, give a manly little yelp, and turn the water back off. Grumbling, I wrap a towel around myself and make my way to the kitchen, where I turn on the gas and water heater. We're not supposed to leave them on overnight, because we'll suffocate. Or explode. Or something. The rest of my morning routine proceeds normally.
I go outside, and start walking toward the metro. On my way there, I see hundreds of people, almost get run over by a scooter and a bus, and pass two street vendors inexplicably selling lace. I stop in a small restaurant and convenience store, buy a bottle of water, coffee, and a couple delicious dumplings for approximately $1.50 total.
In the metro station, I blend in with the locals by breezing by the guards at the security check who are supposed to scan my bag. I swipe my metro card, and whip out my trusty Kindle. A few metro stops and a bus ride later, and I'm at school!
After greeting the security guard and front desk people, I wade through a swarm of children and parents to the teachers' lounge. (Sidenote: kids should really have their own collective noun. There's a herd of cattle, a murder of crows, etc. I'm thinking "an anklebite of children.") I say 'hi' to all my fellow teachers, sit down, and begin preparations for the day's classes.
In this hypothetical day, I conveniently teach one class of each age group. My Small Stars class, containing students approximately aged 4-6, consists of me excitedly counting, asking the students how they are, and playing vocabulary games with flashcards. In my next class, which is full of a group of High Flyers aged 7-9ish, I juggle introducing new vocabulary and phrases with keeping the students entertained. It's a balancing act between retaining their attention over a severe language barrier, and getting them to actually learn and be productive. My final class of the day is a calm group of Trailblazers, aged 10-13. In this class, we can more naturally converse, talk about a wider range of subjects, and have extra time to explore subjects that interest the students.
After school, some friends and I decide to have a few drinks. So, I hop on the metro and make my way halfway across Shanghai to the French Concession. The trip costs $1, and puts me within easy walking distance of several bars. Worst case scenario, I text/call a very convenient service, which gives me the name and address of my desired location in both English and Chinese, and take a $3ish taxi ride from the metro stop.
The drinks are the most expensive part of my day, and cost anywhere between $2 and $11 apiece. Fortunately, I rationed myself and only brought a reasonable amount of money so that I wouldn't overspend. (Which is easy to do, since the money here still doesn't seem real to me. I know it has value, but my subconscious self still hasn't caught on.) Good thinking, pre-tipsy Tom. At some point, I decide that I'm hungry, so I walk to the nearest street food vendor. I pick up a few bamboo skewers filled with a wide selection of vegetables, raw meat or seafood, and hand it to the vendor. They grill it to perfection, season it with something delicious and spicy, and hand it back to me. At most, the meal costs about $3.
After a night of revelry, I'm forced to take a taxi back home since the metro closes at 11:00. This time, I don't need to cheat and use the address service thing. I can say where I need to go. I've been practicing. It's my moment to shine! Somehow the taxi driver can't believe what perfect Chinese is coming out of my mouth, and asks me to repeat myself a few times. I assume it's just so he can marvel at my natural, unaccented delivery.
The taxi ride back is like something out of an arcade game. The driver is pulling stunts that would get your license revoked in America, but is absolutely normal here. He weaves through traffic and pedestrians with impressive aplomb, and knows the dimensions of his car with machine-like precision. Somehow, we arrive incident-free, I walk home, and go to sleep.
The end.
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