The Dumb Laowai

Alright! Back to school! I don’t think I’ve ever said those words before, but after the torture of the previous eight days, anything had to be an improvement. Yes, the trip was only four days, but the belly rot doubled my pleasure.

I didn’t count on forgetting most of what I had learned. My limited knowledge of Chinese was not very deeply imbedded and, because I hadn’t looked at a book in all that time, I was practically starting over. I soon found myself trying to learn the current chapter and relearn an earlier one. Since the pace was already brutal, catching up has been a tortuous process. I’m not there yet and I have three days of midterms this week. This may be a very large bruise to my scholastic pride.

Aside from that, things are still new enough to be exciting. The overall situation is dynamic enough that practically anything can happen. I’m discovering that by going with the flow and keeping an open mind you can end up in some pretty interesting spots.

The grind to catch up was getting a little frustrating and I'd had a bad day of classes; a day that makes you want to burn the books and get drunk. I bought a copy of China Daily (the propaganda rag) and was headed out to have lunch and start on the binge when I was approached by three young Chinese girls who asked me if I could do them a big favor.

Usually I would ignore them or claim to be busy, writing it off as a sales pitch or a straight out scam. I’ve done this before, even when beautiful women wanted to have a drink. I always kicked myself afterwards, so this time I stopped and listened. The shortest of the three said that they were having a contest among some Chinese students learning English and that they needed some foreigners to help them in a game that evening.

It sounded like I could still get in a good five hours of study, and a change of pace sounded appealing. I pictured 8-10 students from a class getting together to practice and needing language partners. Sure, why not? I told her I would be there at 7:00, gave her my phone number and went off to hit the books. I put the drinking binge on hold. A few hours later, another girl called to thank me and asked if I could be there at 6:45 instead. Sure. No problem. Seemed like a lot of trouble to go through for a study session, though.

Vivian, the girl who had first asked me, planned to meet me at the front of the classroom building, but since I didn’t see her, I went on in. I was even a little offended. I’m a grown man, even if I am a dumb laowai, and I can certainly find a classroom without a guide. I went up the stairs to find myself at a registration line. This was getting a little confusing. Must be more than 10 students, I thought.

I walked past the registration and through the doors to find myself in an auditorium with more than 500 Chinese students. There were banners, seating on stage for VIPs, cheering sections and ushers. I felt like a complete idiot. I couldn’t even find a classroom. I guess Vivian was right in wanting to meet me out front. If I hurried, I could get down there before she arrived and I could pretend I hadn’t gotten lost.

As I turned to go a woman ran up to and around me, blocking my way. “You must be Mike.” Ohhhh, shit! Two people quickly joined us and they practically bum-rushed me down front. They led me across the front and seated me with three students who were to be the time-keepers. I sat down, speechless, and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. I had minders watching me the whole time. At one point, I walked out to go to the restroom. When I came out, one of them was waiting to escort me back to my seat. Ducking out was not going to be an option.

The time-keepers all spoke English and were very friendly. “Do you know what you’re supposed to do?” “I haven’t got a clue!” They proceeded to explain something about speeches and a recovery round where I would guess words. It was all still pretty vague when the program started. I sat through three five minute speeches by school administrators, not understanding a word. I started cursing Vivian. There were ten school officials seated on stage and it looked like they were all going to speak. Why else would they be there? I really should have gone with my first instinct and gotten drunk.

The next thing I know, they all leave and the competition starts. It turns out that there really are ten students competing, but this is no study session, it's an annual competition for freshmen. Each of them had their own, incredibly loud, cheering section, complete with horns, kazoos, bells, whistles and organized cheers. One of the timekeepers told me that her friend, who was competing, had placed second in a nation-wide contest the previous year. She slyly suggested that I should help her if I could. How in the hell was I going to help her if I didn't even know what I was supposed to do?

In the first round, each student was to make a three minute topical speech. I groaned at the prospect, but they were all interesting for one reason or another; some for their impressive speaking skills and some for their bravery. I finally saw two other westerners, but they were judges, apparently staff members. At least they knew what was going on. Unfortunately, the show had started and I wasn't able to speak with them.

In between speeches, my three time-keeper coaches finally explained that, afterwards, scores would determine which three would automatically advance to the second round. The other seven would play a game (we know it as $10,000 Pyramid and other names) to determine the other three to advance. Oh great! These kids (and their rabid fans) were depending on me to make their dreams come true, and I was going to disappoint four of the seven. That may sound a little dramatic, but contests over here are serious, especially when they’re academically oriented.

Before the last speaker got to the podium, I was escorted to the backstage entrance to speak with the coordinator once again. In what seemed like seconds later I was handed a microphone, escorted behind the curtains and shoved on stage. I was introduced by a smarmy emcee (I don’t know who he was imitating, but it wasn’t a good idea) and left alone, center stage. I couldn't even say anything. I just gave a half-hearted half-wave, accompanied by a stupid grin.

I’m not sure who was more nervous, the contestants or me. They had to describe random words or phrases that appeared on a screen behind me. These weren’t just simple words. They ranged from lipstick to The Leaning Tower of Pisa. That’s a rough test of anyone’s vocabulary, especially in a foreign language. I can’t imagine how long I would need to study Mandarin to attempt such an endeavor.

I had to guess well or they were out of it. They and their friends might decide to meet me outside and welcome me to China. No pressure! Every correct answer was met with loud applause and cheering. The various noisemakers added an occasional emphasis. This was serious, but I was on a roll and started to have fun with it, especially when one girl started by saying “You’re getting married.” My shocked reaction got a lot of laughs and everyone loosened up. This was fun. The contestants weren’t convinced of it though.

It all went well up until the last person, a small girl who was practically shaking from the pressure. She started and got through four words before everyone realized that the list was a repeat of one used earlier. It took a few minutes to correct and by the time we started again she was done for. Maybe she just drew tough words, but we struggled through to get her 3 points, where the others had all gotten 7-10. I really felt sorry for her. I never saw the words, so I don't know if the fault was mine or not.

As I left the stage, several competitors thanked and complimented me. The coordinator thanked me and asked me if I would do it again. Certainly! I later kicked myself for leaving and not knowing who had won, but I had reached sensory overload for the evening. I left the building and walked toward the street, truly appreciating the beautiful weather. Maybe it was time for that drink after all; a calm, reflective drink after a great night; not the mind-erasing mixtures I had thought about earlier in the day.

I hailed a taxi and headed to my favorite bar. To those who know me it may sound a little strange, but “my favorite bar” means the one I drink in once a week. Believe it or not, that’s as often as I go to a bar. Go ahead and look at the website address; you’re in the right place.

Anyways, I walked through the door and the first people I saw were three classmates I didn’t know very well. Up until then, all I knew was that they were from Iceland and were inseparable. I’m not sure if anyone has ever seen one without the other two.

They were there for the Wednesday night team trivia contest and immediately sized me up as a valuable contributor. The theme for the evening’s contest was Halloween, something that the majority of the room knew nothing about. I never thought I would be popular for my Halloween knowledge. Intellectual superiority that night was defined by knowing that the Halloween favorite recorded in 1962 is The Monster Mash and knowing that the popular Halloween game is bobbing for apples. I’m a genius!

After a couple of beers, provided by my classmates, I decided to go Absinthe. One of them was excited, claiming that we were kindred, adventurous spirits. I got the round and he got the next. His roommates wisely left and we continued our drinking, traveling the world with our selections. What I wasn’t aware of was that he had drunk 7-8 beers before I had arrived and that he was only 18. I like to think that I can hold my own in a drinking sense. This 18 year old kid had spotted me 8 beers and tried to match me thereafter. It wasn’t pretty. After pushing him out of a taxi, I headed home and slept the sleep of the dead, knowing I had proven them separable after all.

A rotten day had blossomed into a great one, in ways I could never have imagined beforehand. Keeping an open mind can do wonders for you, whether it’s food, people or activities. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: most of my best experiences are the ones I wouldn’t have chosen knowingly. Unless I know the outcome will be bad, I’ve started to say yes automatically, just to see what happens. Even when it’s bad, it’s interesting.

By the way, the kid couldn’t make it to class the next morning and I felt like a million bucks, mentally refreshed and eager to hit the books.

Being enthused about class is easier some days than others. Waking up at 6am and finding out that the Bears had been humiliated by a semi-pro Miami team put a real damper on my Monday outlook. Silver lining-wise, I’m hoping that this will motivate Da’ Bears for their Sunday night game in New York. Otherwise, I’ll be very distraught.

I’ve gone through a brutal week of reviews and mid-term exams. Damn, this is hard! We are to receive the results Monday morning, but I’ve already cleared my absence with my laoshi (lao rhymes with cow, shi with her.) Confusing, huh? Don’t get me started on the funny, throat-clearing “r” sounds that only Beijing people make. Anyway, I’m blowing off my test scores to head across town once again, to have whiskey with my breakfast and watch the Bears. I’ll just have to get my scores on Tuesday.

If you read this in time, tell Chip at Rocco’s to buy the bar a drink on me if they win, two for Norm. Hopefully he’ll think I’m good for it. How many bartenders can say that a guy in China has the next round?