Tang Pijyu

Friday night, in the midst of a run around the man-made lake behind the hotel, I poured out my frustrations to God. Among them, I have been in China for 5 weeks now and still felt like a tourist or visiting businessman. I had no real relationships with anyone who is Chinese, except for the Chinese woman who is part of our work team here. I felt that I wasn't truly immersed in Chinese culture. How was I going to have any sort of influence on people I don't know in a culture I am merely passing through? This was my prayer request.


I woke up Saturday morning to the sound of housekeeping knocking on my door. 9:25 AM. How could I have slept in so late? Why didn't my alarm go off? Breakfast was over and I was already behind on my goals for the day, and I now had only a few hours before my Venezuelan co-worker Luis wanted to hang out. After some emailing, some reading, and listening to the first half of Rich Mullins' A Liturgy, A Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band, I finally decided to set out for a run to a nearby park, where the playground is filled with various types of outdoor excercise equipment.



After going through my workout routine, I spent some time walking around, and soon some young Chinese girls came running towards me, wanting to talk and practice their English. Westerners are a rare site in Dagang, and I was probably the strangest and most interesting thing they had seen in a while. Before long, nearly 10 children were gathered around and asking questions, some of them in very well-enunciated English, as I talked with a 34-year-old man, Jun, and his 3-year old daughter, Chong. He worked for a local automotive parts company as the import/export manager and spoke fairly good English. He invited me to his home for lunch, and I told him that I would be honored to visit his home.


We walked back into an area of apartment complexes near the park, and up to the 6th floor of a skinny off-white building, where his astonished wife opened the door. I took off my running shoes, put on some rubber slippers, and sat down on the couch. The floor seemed to be made of cheap tile and the whole apartment was sparsely furnished, although clean. While we waited for his wife, Fe Ni, to cook lunch, we practiced English and Chinese, as I ate watermelon and played with his daughter. I don't particularly like watermelon, but I had made up my mind to eat whatever they gave me no matter how bad it might taste, and this wasn't very bad. In fact, I almost enjoyed it.


Lunch consisted of fish with tofu and ginger, some steamed or lightly stir-fried vegetables, spinach and leeks, and shrimp stir-fried with green peppers. The tofu smelled like something rotten but the fish was alright, and the shrimp dish was excellent. We finished with rice, and tomato & egg soup. Jun and I had Snow premium beer, which was surprisingly good. The typical toast in China is "ganbei" (literally "bottoms up"), but he wanted to know what to say in English. Before long, he had the beer in front of his 3-year-old daughter and was trying to get her to say "cheers!" before then making her drink some of it. This was my first time drinking beer with a 3-year-old. Later, as we were finishing our soup, she poured her dad's beer into his bowl and started laughing. "Soup beer," I quipped, "tang pijyu." She thought this was absolutely hilarious.


Before I knew it, it was 4:00. As I began to leave, praising his wife's cooking and thanking him for having me over, he asked me once again to return next Saturday. Immersion in Chinese culture? Be careful what you pray for!

I'm already looking forward to next Saturday.