>My girlfriend gave me some information last night. This more for my future reference for future columns than it is for you.

1) You have to pay for high school in China. And I’m not talking about class dues or shit like that; think more along the lines of tuition. How much? She said it prevents poorer families from educating their children. The natural question is: why do they charge for high school? Perhaps there is a good reason, think school upkeep. Let’s see.

2) She did not learn to speak English until college. The English portion of the college entrance exam tests reading and grammar, not oral. Why? Furthermore, the teachers had bad English pronunciation; she said that different classes heard different pronunciation. Again, why? Why hire such bad teachers? A shortage? Something else? I guess what the Australian teacher said holds true in this case: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” They probably don’t see the value in oral English, especially since the college entrance exam does not test oral. Too bad that anyone hoping to use English as a means to a good job or abroad needs to know how to speak and understand it. Explore further.

3) Since I am going to her hometown, this one comes in handy: her parents do not speak Putonghua (standard Mandarin) but a local dialect. Okay, how do they communicate with people outside their hometown? Apparently the dialect is not that different to hinder communication. It’s mutually intelligible with Mandarin. This isn’t Cantonese versus Mandarin. And she can speak the local dialect and Putonghua as well. The college entrance exam tests knowledge of Mandarin, I think. I’ll look into this.

>The last week with the Computer Kids, I showed them Aliens. Besides being one of my favorite movies, it was also a great way to kill all three periods.

Early in the movie, an android named Bishop does what the other characters call the “knife trick”. He spreads his palm out and rapidly stabs a knife between his fingers, never so much as scratching his skin.

This scene wowed the students. After gasps and oohs, I heard a stabbing sound. I look over to see one of the boys in the back mimicking the “knife trick” with a sharp pencil.

I was about to tell him to stop, but them my mind spoke up.

Wait.

Unfortunately, he moved too slow.

“Kid, you’re doing it wrong.”

Then I pulled out my knife.

>We all know of the Engrish in foreign countries involving vulgar English on clothing. Here’s one I saw.

Over at the Lu Xiang mall, my girlfriend, I, and two of her friends went to see a movie on the night of Christmas Day. The place was a madhouse–even more packed than usual. We had to shuffle our way through throngs of young Chinese, all chatting about loudly, a few dropping dead at the sight of a real-life laowai.

We passed a guy in a hat that read “ABCDEFUCKU.” I tried in vain to get a picture, but he was too fast. I wonder how they’d react if laowai started wearing shirts with “TMD” or “qu4 ni3 de”.

Someone open a Cafe Press store and get on this. We might have an untapped market of high potential here.

>Before I came to China, I hadn’t the slightest clue just how prevalent smoking is here.

A few smoking bans here or there exist, but think of them more as suggestions. Pleas, even. At a restaurant here in Beijing, each table had a sign that read, in Chinese characters and perfect English: No Smoking.

People smoked anyways. Maybe they’re illiterate?

I am sitting in the hostel’s cafe/rec room right now. There is a long couch beside me that stretches across the walls. A few minutes ago, two Chinese entered, a boy, and a girl with a hoodie that reads “Bad Boy”.

Another followed. He handed the boy a cigarette and they both lit up. Smoke fills the room.

I went back and forth as to whether or not I’d smoke tonight. Now I realize something.

I don’t need to. Just go out to any building and inhale.

You’ll get your fix. And keep your RMB.

>I was at the cafeteria waiting for yet another helping of fan1 qie2 chao3 ji1 dan4 when I looked over and saw a cook leaning against the wall. He glanced around lazily, reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.’

He stuck it in his mouth, lit it, and went into the kitchen and started cooking.

And I wasn’t too weirded out by this. I guess I’ve finally adjusted to the life here.