The Tale of 82 RMB

[Note: Originally written on 9/19/12]

The hilarious thing about children in China is, they beg for pictures with me, and then, the second the camera comes out... they look like they hate me. Cameras are terrifying, apparently. Or I am, up close?

Tonight we went back to this little restaurant by the train ticket office. It's part of our get-out-of-the-apartment-at-least-once-daily program. It's goin' great for us, tell you that much right now. Sometimes we even go out TWICE a day. Such wild women, we are. Other days, we clean the apartment, do our laundry, eat, and watch scary movies with all the lights off, after someone has legitimately tried to break into our apartment the very same evening. (In hindsight, it was a mistake to add the scary movie on top of the break-in scare. I mean. We ended up sleeping in the same bed out of sheer terror. DON'T WATCH THE WOMAN IN BLACK WHEN YOU HAVE OPEN WINDOWS AND CREEPY CURTAINS. Please. Learn from my mistakes.)

It's about a five mile walk from our apartment - so not too bad at all. We were there on Monday, and they were so excited to see us again. We were excited to see THEM. Not only is the food like bits of heaven in noodles or on rice, but they have a picture menu. That's like Christmas here. It's basically the only place we can really eat until we get our Mandarin eating and ordering phrases a little more practiced. (But hey! We have flashcards. It's just that we spend most of our spare time learning to write in Elvish... Sorry. That's real. I JUST LIKE LORD OF THE RINGS.) In Beijing or Shanghai, most restaurants, however ghetto, will have an English menu on hand. In Pooptown? Welp. We are about the only foreigners ever to pass through here. So. No dice.

We got two dishes tonight - one eight yuan and one ten yuan. They kept bringing us more - seaweed appetizers, orange sodas in the cuuutest little bottles, broth, and baked sweet potatoes. It was all delicious, and they were so kind. We were thinking, dude, who cares if they charge us for more than the two dishes? We were living the life. I mean, the family that owns it is ridiculously sweet. And non-creepy sweet. Cause there's sweet like, stare-at/follow-the-foreign-girls-like-they-are-naked-and-take-pictures-on-your-cell-phone-openly-and-akwardly "sweet", and then there's sweet like, they genuinely want you to feel welcome and they feel honored to meet you. This family is the second kind. It helps that they have two sons that we may just claim as Fling 1 and Fling 2. (Dr. Suess reference? Kind of?) Look, we're just on the rebound, because Boyfriend has a girlfriend who's an international actress, does peace signs with both hands and likes Hello Kitty. That sounds horribly stereotypical, but it's all true. He showed us pictures of her when he drove us home from Shanghai and it broke my spirit. (This was also the day that I cooked a spaghetti squash for dinner, only to cut it open and discover that it was a melon. Just a rough day all around, is what I'm getting at). But Fling 1 and Fling 2 are cuties. Real cuties. And they are always so excited when we come in. And they have great muscles. Lean muscles, but great muscles nonetheless. (Hi, we're just real lonely here in Pooptown. Anything under 25, male, and non-student is generally pretty appealing at this point.) Also, Fling 1 is great with kids. How do we know this? Because the literal cutest little boy in the entire world - their much, much younger little brother - toddled all around us the whole dinner, with Fling 1 chasing after him. I kept forgetting to eat I was so in love with him. The little boy. Not even Fling 1, mind you.

And I mean, we fasted today. I should've been ravenous. But teaching this kid how to play peek-a-boo was just as delightful as my meal. He was so funny. And ridiculously good at mirroring whatever sassy faces I made at him. They loved how much we loved him, so they started getting HIM to bring us each part of our meal. Okay, I'm sorry. A wide eyed, flannel-clad, diaper-bummed baby bringing me an orange soda? Have I died and gone to heaven? Oh, my. SUCH a good dinner.

And the best part? We just gave them 100 RMB at the end of the meal, since we weren't sure how much it would cost with all the extra things they had given us - since not all the other diners around us had received such luxxxuries. (Whenever I say luxury, I say it in a British accent and think of Daddy.) They brought us 82 RMB back. 82, people. Do you understand, that they GAVE us all that extra food?!! They could very well have ripped us off - we would never have known the difference or the price of the food beyond what we had ordered. But they gave it to us. It's people like that that make me so very happy to live here. People are so good, and so giving. And we had the most delightful dinner... for under three dollars. What?! Good thing I'm awkwardly sore today from my Jillian Michaels DVD. Or I'd be miiighty worried about getting tubby with these kind of prices and this kind of FOOD. So yummy. I love China.

I am loving my classes. I actually teach 25 different classes. ...RIGHT?! I wish that were different, because I'd love a chance to get closer with my students. One week, I teach my fourth grade and sixth grade classes, and then the next week, I teach fifth grade all week. It's like A day and B day, but with every other week. Which means I teach each class a total of 7 times before heading back to the USA. That was pretty discouraging to figure out. Especially since even the English teachers speak NO English. It's crazy. But I am going to make the very most of my time. They are all sweet and well-behaved. Each class just has... like a different energy. Maybe that doesn't make sense... but it does once you're in there. My mood changes hour to hour, depending on how each class FEELS. And so does my lesson, even though I always go in with the same plan. I just also go in with the knowledge that I'll have to take whatever I have planned and throw it right out the window. You just have to go with what their little spirits are telling you they need. But it always goes well. I never, ever, feel sad or awkward or unprepared. So, that's nice. I just feel pure happiness when I teach. They are so loving.

Hahaha. Also. Since I am currently trying to memorize approximately 1,325 little faces (each class has about 53 students) I have about a million pictures like this one:

Fifth grade. The glory days. Where sitting next to someone of the opposite gender in a picture is the social equivalent of being walked-in-on while making out.

Have I mentioned that I LOVE these kids?! Because I really do. I just hope I can figure out the best way to help them. My favorite part of every lesson is still the end, when I say, "And most importantly? I LOVE YOU." And they all shout up at me, in unison, "And I love you, too, Miss Sellllby!"

And I love you guys. (: Have such a good day!!