Tea and Company

Yesterday was my first time venturing into the “small” town south of the school – Huan-yang. A narrow, two-lane street leads into the town, and as I walked the roughly 2-3km, I was passed by petty cab drivers, buses, and other, more brisk pedestrians. Because it was close to noon, the street sweepers, who are mostly women, were eating lunch. They called out ni hao and flashed friendly smiles as I passed. One group of women had propped their large brooms against their electric bikes, and they were all curled up in exactly the same position napping in the shade on the side of the road. It was adorable.

Once in town, I did not see any other foreigners. I successfully purchased a mop and a fluffy pillow by pointing, motioning, and making confused faces until the shopkeepers understood my requests. Pedestrians definitely gave me the stares and curious glances that I had read about, but surprisingly, it did not feel uncomfortable or intrusive. I smiled and said ni hao or hello, and people were generally amused. After I bought the mop, people shamelessly pointed and nudged their friends when I walked by. Who was this waiguoren, carrying a mop like a chimney sweep and whistling (unconsciously) “I like Chinese” by Monty Python?

On the way out of town, I noticed a park beside the river. I started out for a stroll and came upon one of the places I had been most excited to experience: a tea house! An entire house dedicated to delicious hot beverages! I went over to the waitress and motioned that I wanted to drink. She pointed me to a table, where I sat down and smiled at the other patrons, who were all unabashedly watching me. When the waitress came over, she had a tall glass filled with clear water, a straw, what looked like ice at the bottom, and flowers floating at the top. Lovely, I thought, but if it were cold, I couldn’t drink it! To my surprise, the water was hot. At the bottom were sugar crystals, and you had to drink with a straw to avoid a mouthful of flowers.

As I sat drinking my tea and writing in my journal, I had many visitors. One woman, about my age, came over and placed three small apples on my table. She said something in Chinese, but when I just shrugged, she giggled and walked away. An old beggar with a well-groomed beard and wearing a nice collared shirt bowed and held out his hand. What a contrast from the rowdy, aggressive beggars elsewhere! I wasn’t sure if I should give him money with all eyes on me… would that just confirm that foreigners were rich? Given his incredible respect, though, I couldn’t help myself and handed over an rmb.

A group of teenage girls were selling a green, stalk-like food that looked like it had a seed-filled plunger attached to the end. When I declined to buy one, they gave it to me anyway and were then harassed by a couple of boys their age who had paid. It was all in good fun, though, and soon the boys and the waitress were showing me how to pluck a seed from the plunger-end to eat it. The old street sweeper pointed to the river, with its wilted reeds and trash strewn banks, and gestured that they had grown nearby! I almost spit it out immediately, but managed to hold the seed under my tongue until she wasn’t looking.