The Short Bus

8.29.10 and 8.30.2010

Sunday started after my morning ritual of a steamed bun from the stall down the street and cold bottled milk tea from the convenience store. In the late morning I met with my colleagues about our society and culture class. After that I left for Fudan to meet with my Chinese teacher. As a group of American students we had to endure an hour long rant designed to scare us into studying hard during our Mandarin experience and how we must take these courses seriously. For me I find this as no problem with me, I can’t wait to work hard on this stuff. Finally it was announced that I would be in no-nothing beginner class with just two other girls who also have no existing Chinese language skills. Our professors were young and sweet and after we met them one of them took us to lunch. We ate Chinese hot pot, a spicy make-it-yourself stew that was the best thing I have had in China yet. It turns out that we will not be taking classes at Fudan but rather in an office next to the apartment building. The reason behind this is because we beginners are not competent enough to communicate with our colleagues in hallway conversations—we ride the short bus to school.
I spent much of the afternoon cleaning the apartment. My goal was to have a clean house to come home to after I returned from a downtown excursion. In my head I wanted to see the Pudong business district or window shop in Jing’an but right as I had finished my chores and headed for the door my roommate Marx showed up with five friends and lots of groceries. “Do you want to make dumpling?” he asked. I couldn’t resist and I surrendered my afternoon plans to my appetite and the strangers in my apartment.
Our Chinese friends trusted Kevin and I with only dumpling forming. Two of the girls could really shape these ravioli like concoctions—they got artistic. After we had made close to 100 dumplings and half of them resembled the sorriest meat wads you have ever seen, they dumped them in the wok to boil. After the dumplings were mostly made, Marx started to cook the other dishes: egg and tomato, potatoes and peppers and sautéed river fish—we made so much food we ran out of dishes and had to ask the neighbors.
After dinner Kevin introduced the idea that we play Beirut on the laundry balcony. For me, the highlight of the night was to see our Shanghainese guests let loose and enjoy themselves in this game. Most of them got really into this American drinking game and everyone left with a smile their faces.
The next morning I had to start class. I woke up early so I could have enough time to buy breakfast and get money from the China Construction Bank (a Bank of America affiliate) down at the mall about 20 minutes walk away. I had just enough time to run a few errands and call my parents before class started. When class did start all I had to do was show up and sit in my seat because my two other colleagues were already there.
Learning Chinese has started like any other language class, in class I learned the most basic of basic phrases and then commence learning the right pronunciations. The pronunciations part was by far the most difficult, my teacher would say “A” and I would say “A” and then she would say “no Ah” and I would say “Ah” and then she would say “no no no Ahh” and so on…
On top of all that, we learned a few key phrases and how to count to ten. With only three people in class it might seem like she is picking on me but in reality I know that I will learn from some pestering.
When class was done I finished up some laundry and headed out to meet two friends for lunch. We went to a restaurant that served Taiwanese styled noodle soup and it was delicious. With a full stomach I headed to Fudan to sit in on my Chinese Economics course. The three hour class session was spent outlaying the basics of the course and microeconomics.
Class ended I retreated to my apartment for a much sought after nap. When I woke up Kevin and I went to the Wojouxin mall (the one with the China Construction Bank) on the bus. We walked around the maze of lights and glamour for some good and cheap food. We were amazed to find people waiting in line outside of restaurants like Haagen Daz and Pizza Hut begging for seats. We found a Hong Kongese place that served us roasted duck—delicous. When I got back home I did some studying and called Bhutan and Ecuador and then went to sleep.