** Beijing - Day 2 - Two sides to any story

Funny. I didn't realize until today, or at least didn't fully comprehend the extent, how different an experience Garrett & I will have in China, even if we travel this entire trip together. For one, having been to HK (though it's been a while) as a relative (instead of as a lone tourist sort), some things here in Beijing are... well, not old-hat, per se, but at least familiar. Ordinary, even. I, in fact, own a U2 brand shirt (the purple one, from back in the day, pressed and starched into oblivion, though I still love it), and so the storefront is hardly surprising or photo worthy. (I should note, of the photos taken today, minimum three were of storefronts of big brand-ish stores -- but for very particular reasons). So, (1) HK influence.

For two, though my mandarin is poor, it exists in some broken and wonderful fashion, and I think is getting better too. I'm beginning to fully appreciate what Christopher said once about how much of the culture you miss when you can't speak/understand the language in question. There are already tons of things that I miss because I can't read the unilingual historically informative plaques (sad, but true. I'm nearly totally illiterate. More broken than my speech, it is). But at least I catch bits, and can sometimes get a lot just by asking.

There are a number of examples of this one from today... For instance, Garrett and I wandered past a gorgeously constructed building having chinese-style architecture. While I couldn't read the sign to figure out what it was, I was curious enough that I popped into the little entrance hut-thing, and asked there. Qing wen, zher shi shenme di fang? Shi yi yuan, the man responded. He then proceeded to ask me what place I was looking for, and I had difficultly explaining that I was just curious what the building was, and that I really wasn't lost or anything. I mostly just spat out some broken mandarin, a thank you, nodded and smiled at them and walked out. But MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. That gorgeous building, which you'd think was historically relevant or something, was a hospital. A teaching hospital, too, although that I discovered later on, when looking at signs on the other side. I'm pretty pleased that I asked. Pleased as punch, one might even say.

In addition, tonight, when I was reheating my leftovers from last night for dinner (rice and dumplings, though the dumplings were nothing compared to those at lunch -- went to a little restaurant that specialized in almost nothing but dumplings. Mmm) in the microwave in the hostel's kitchen, there was a chinese guy cooking dinner at the same time, humming to himself. He then motioned me over and pointed at his wok, currently filled with chicken wings and potatoes in some brown sauce. He didn't really say anything, assuming, as most do, that I wouldn't understand (look at the crazy foreign girl try to work the microwave). But I asked, in mandarin, what it was (didn't really catch what he said it was seasoned with, but caught chicken and potatoes), asked if it was spicy, and then said, sure, I'd love to try some. He asked if I could (would?) eat chicken, and when I said yes, he got me to take out my tupperware full of rice, and put a heaping scoop of potatoes, wings and sauce on my dinner. Wow. Thank you, I say. It's tasty, I say.

So, he keeps cooking and singing to himself, and I sit down to eat at one of the kitchen tables. When he's done cooking, his two friends (a guy and girl) come to join in the food (carrots w broccoli, and another dish -- a spicy cold cucumber-ish type thing. Krista/Maureen/Dee would be proud. I tried it even though he warned me it was spicy. I figured it wasn't often I was going to get to try a home-cooked chinese meal.) They invite me over to sit and eat with them, totally sharing everything they've got, and I get introduced by the cooking-guy as "a new friend", which made me laugh. Much of the meal was them chatting, and me trying to follow the conversation (mostly unsuccessfully... they spoke rather quickly). But bits and pieces of it included me too, and I explained why I like eating chinese food, and that my mandarin isn't very good, and that I'm from Canada, and yes, I have to get a stamp in my passport to come to China for vacation. I understood almost every question they asked me, and knew enough to answer, albeit brokenly. Even stuff I didn't understand, I could get if they explained it a little in mandarin. No English required. Except the word "passport" which I couldn't remember, and is difficult to explain. I'd also written my name in chinese on my food (as it was in the communal fridge), and they asked about that too. Said it was nice (they said you picked a good name, Ma zi).

So we ate, laughed, and ate more. It was good, I'd say, and not really an experience I'd expected to have. Definitely the highlight of my day, though. Even the food and craziness of wangfujing (today's tourist highlight) couldn't compare to that. Plus, funny story, the guy who was cooking reminded me of Christopher, as least in as much as (1) he ate as fast as humanly possible, without breaking limits of courtesy, (2) talked very fast and animatedly, with hardly pause for breath, and (3) would sing like Chris dances, almost unstoppably.

I think I'm becoming the hostel's resident foreigner who hangs out with the staff or something. In fact, one of the guys I was playing guitar with yesterday (who works at the hostel, and seems to speak more English than the dinner folk tonight) stopped in to say hi to the people I was eating dinner with, and waved to me too. I should really start learning names though. I dunno. I'm still feeling moderately unsociable, but somehow, hanging out in a language not my own is worth it in all possible ways. Plus, since I can't say much anyway, it doesn't seem so odd that I'm comfortable being quiet. Bonus, sweethearts. Absolute bonus.