Wok It Out

This semester I have fallen more into a routine, although sometimes there are drastic fluctuations. Usually I’ll go out 2-3 times a week for dinner with friends or employers. For some reason there was one random week were I was invited out for dinner every night. One day I regrettably told my students to pick where we ate. They chose hot pot, which is the same thing I had earlier that day for lunch. Eating hot pot is the equivalent of drinking about a pint of oil. A hot pot enthusiast knows it is enough to only eat it once a week. There isn’t a chapter in the novel “What’s Your Poo Telling You” to describe my situation the following day. The eight-day bender took a drastic toll on my body. During that span I seemed to have aged considerably. The party fiend that I once considered myself to be has morphed into an old man whose ideal Friday night consists of drinking peanut milk and reading historical fiction.   

One Chinese belief that I greatly enjoy, is that garlic not only wards of vampires, but also prevents bird flu. With the H1N1 scare taking place, garlic has become much more prevalent in all dishes. Last night I had a dish that was just cooked garlic clovers. I now put garlic in everything, partially because I learned a really fun trick of how to dice it. Kassy and I, after several behind the stove lessons have managed to become adequate cooks. Our range is very narrow, but there are 5 to 6 dishes that we can competently prepare.

Our two year wedding anniversary meal.

Luo Bo Gu Lao Rou, the new favorite

Homemade hot pot, 

Good lookin' is cookin'

Homemade dumpling party with the old owners of Heaven and Hell

In addition to more work and studying, there has been a real spike in my physical activity. I have been playing basketball pretty frequently and have developed a reputation as the foreigner who plays defense (something that isn’t really taught in China since they all learn basketball by watching NBA). To call a Chinese game of basketball, scrappy, doesn’t scratch the surface. Players often lower their heads and barrel through the lane as if they are playing a game a red rover. Last month I played a game where I was getting mopped around because I wasn’t wearing the proper foot attire. I regrettably played the next five games without shoes. Several weeks later the bottom of my feet looked like those giant jawbreakers after 45,000 licks from all the layers of worn away skin.

You may have deducted from my erratic blogging frequency and writing quality, that I lack consistency. The same is true for most sports. Sometimes on the basketball court I completely understand the logistics of basketball, arc, form, bounce pass, etc. and other times I get passed the ball and it feels like I’m holding this Chinese fruit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durian, thinking what the hell do I with this. I was having one of those playing better than I actually am kind of days when I met Henry. Now Henry and I didn’t get off to the best start, he walked up to me and said "you may be beautiful but that doesn’t mean you can play basketball." After his team went up a couple of baskets, he informed me my rebounding skills wouldn’t be of any use because his friend doesn’t miss. For the next hour I ferociously played an independent game called this guy never touches the ball. After the game he offered to take me to his restaurant, I reluctantly agreed. Over one the best meals I’ve had here in China, I learned he was attempting to trash talk because that’s what they do in the NBA.