It’s Gettin’ Hot in Here

9/23/09

To maintain our sanity, Hallie and I make a point to go out to eat/get drinks with our teacher friends once a week. It normally falls on Wednesday just in time to complain about the first half of the week. (Also, our ‘Friday’ is actually Thursday so we get pretty antsy by Wednesday.) Our first hump day fest was at a place called Taco Popo. Tonight we went all out. We went hot potting.

I first heard about hot pot from Molly. She talked about it like I already knew what it was before I left (but I didn’t). Arriving in Shanghai in the middle of the hot, humid tail end of summer had me thinking absolutely no hot pot in the near future. Well, the weather has cooled down and this hot pot sounded delicious and came at a perfect time of week. Hallie and I joined our friends at the restaurant (couldn’t tell you the name because it was in Chinese) and were in no way prepared for the monstrosity that was about to occur.

The interior of the restaurant resembled a Rainforest Café type atmosphere. There were fake trees and a bar that was shaped like a mushroom. The steam from the hot pots was a-flowing from table to table. As we passed by each table, we were exposed to funky looking meat, disturbing looking tofu, and quite a few new vegetables. I went into the experience not wanting to know what I was eating. The ten of us sat down at a big table in the back and ordered a round of beers. Our less than $0.50 gi-normous beers were brought to us and we put our order in.

The waiter came back with trays and trays of food. There were some recognizable items: lotus root, ham, pork, potatoes, and dumplings. And then there was tofu, Asian vegetables, and brown stuff (*I was told later that the brown stuff was duck blood. Glad I didn’t eat that). One side of the pot was spicy and the other was mild. They lit us up and we piled it all in. The temperature was rising as we began cooking and then eating. Half way through the vulture massacre, I began to feel it. Sweat dripping down my face. I was so incredibly hot. But there was no slowing me down. Minutes into the dinner I already was perspiring and burning my mouth over and over again.

The cost was a whopping 14 kuai per person. That’s essentially a little more than $2 for a feast. Not too bad. We spent the last hour doing some serious complaining about New Beat. The bizarre hours, the endless favors they ask of us, and the little pay. Each of us had a new story about something ridiculous that had happened the week before. Mine was pretty good, I must say. And here it goes: Every Monday and Wednesday morning I go to Wu Yuan, a nice kindergarten in the French Concession. Cissy and Stephanie, two Chinese English teachers, always accompany Hallie and I on these mornings. (FYI: they insist on staying together when we get to the school and usually come to my classes. Because I’m THAT lucky. *I am being sarcastic). In my first Book 3 class, the two of them sit in the back of the classroom, gossip with the Chinese teacher, interrupt my class, and distract the kids they are sitting next to. They were being too loud and they chose the wrong day to set off my fuse. I was teaching ‘A is for apple, B is for banana, and so on….’ over their loud voices. I started yelling, “A IS FOR APPPPLLEEEEE, B IS FOR BANANNNNNAAAA,” until I was red in the face and they got the idea to shut up. I felt slightly like a crazy person, but it was necessary. I was so mad that I didn’t talk to either of them for my next two classes. However, at the dinner table much later, it made for a funny story.

I’m beginning to really love some of my classes and kids. My Tuesday and Thursday kids are my favorites. They are smart, obedient, and sooo cute. It’s weird how they can put me in a better mood when I’ve been feeling stressed out. I feel like it’s common for my Monday and Wednesday kids to put their pants on backwards. Not sure how or why, but it always gives me a good giggle.

Doufu: Tofu