Turning Thirty

My birthday was on the Wednesday, a crap day for a birthday, as I have classes all day, and then all day Thursday too. I'd decided to take it easy then have a big blow out on Saturday night at the Banana. Fat chance.

I was so busy I didn't really have the time to come to terms with my three-decade milestone, but it did occur to me that I could still have been working in that hellish kitchen in Warwick, with no friends and a relationship on the rocks; instead, here I was in Harbin, doing a job I really enjoyed.

On Wednesday morning I've PET1 followed by PET3. I wasn't sure whether to just play games with them or give them a proper lesson, so I compromised with a lesson plan that would take me up to the end of the first hour, then leave time to play some games in the second. I was also worried about CW (Charles' Wife) catching me playing games as she stalked around the classrooms like an unlucky black cat. She just happens to be my class monitor, as well as my boss.

I wasn't in the mood for teaching, however, and thankfully did not get the chance. As soon as I entered the PET1 classroom at 8 am, the students stood up and subjected me to a forceful rendition of 'Happy Birthday' in English, then produced a huge fluffy creamy birthday cake. I couldn't make them work after that, could I? I'm sure they were banking on it. I had brought along some board games - Jenga, Connect 4 - so we played those instead, chatting away in English as we munched on the fluffy, creamy cake. Lisa, Moon and Maggie, the cutest troublemakers you've ever seen, started to throw bits of the birthday cake at me. They smeared cream all over my face and into my hair, I retaliated, and soon the whole class was engulfed in a creamy chaotic cake fight.

PET3 were even more chilled. I've made some inroads into this class, and have built up a decent relationship with them, pretty much by using the carrot and stick approach. They're still incredibly lazy, but nice with it. They gave me a card, signed by all, a cactus, and a bunch of lychees, which we peeled and ate noisily as we played cards. Instead of using money, the kids tore thin strips of paper that they wetted on their tongues then stuck onto their faces when they lost. Kitty never won a game, and ended up looking like The Girl In The Paper Mask, only her beautiful eyes visible beneath the white; Camel and Henry, whose hobbies are smoking cigarettes and playing cards (possibly in training for government jobs or managerial positions after they graduate) were, not surprisingly, the winners.

Over the course of the day I was given: a set of bongos (Tam); a fig tree in a terracotta pot (Patrick); a photography and design book (Danuka and Ken); a sketch pad and pencils (Anita); a silver hip flask and bottle of bei jiu (Gina); and a decorative wooden box, all the way from Dubai (Clive); funniest present of the day goes to Andy, who gave me a plastic key-ring with a picture of the World Cup on it, saying: 'ere's something no Scotsman will ever get their 'ands on.'

That night we ate at Big Portions. Everybody came apart from Danuka; we've kind of grown apart recently, not sure why. I had six hours to teach on Thursday, and didn't want to overdo it on the beer. Matty had other ideas:

'Happy birthday, you old git. Gan bei!'

I emptied the glass.

'Yeah, have a good one. Gan bei!' From Patrick.

Right round the table, every one of the fifteen teachers demanded I empty my glass then some of them did it again. Twenty or more glasses of beer later, taking it easy was no longer an option. After pitchers in Gong Da, Ken, Clive and I somehow ended up at the Banana Bar three days early. I was not meant to be there. It was only Wednesday. We drank beer at the bar and played Connect 4 with two barmaids, who kept letting us win, to give us face so we'd spend more money, to the point where we were deliberately overlooking obvious rows of three in an attempt to lose. The three counters seemed to represent the three decades I'd just lived, and I wasn't quite ready to bring on the fourth just yet. I was so drunk, a three-year old would have beaten me, but the barmaid was determined.

Ken left, but Clive and I wanted to dance. We asked the two barmaids up with us and, after consulting their boss, they agreed. Clive got the stunning one, leaving me with the gawky awkward girl, but I didn't care. I had gone shopping with Liu Yang the day before, and today she had sent me a sweet birthday e-card. I was looking forward to dancing with her again on this very floor on Saturday. Back at the bar for one more beer, the two barmaids started pointing to themselves, then at us, then at the door, seeming to suggest we go home with them. I looked at Clive suspiciously, but he beamed back at me, nodding his head eagerly. I suggested we go back and dance for a while longer. As soon as we got onto the dance floor, the two girls were right there, by our sides, pulling at our arms.

I must attest to my innocence in all of this. I had a date in three days time. I wasn't going to spoil it. And anyway, Clive had the beautiful one! I warned him off them. Where was their home, anyway? Was it safe to get in a taxi with them and go to some strange place, where we might be robbed? Did he want to take the risk? He increased nodding speed. I pulled him grudgingly out the door towards a waiting taxi. We heard a shriek, and saw the girls running out after us like Valkyries over a battlefield. I had Clive by the left arm, but the cute barmaid had grabbed his right and was dragging him away. He looked at me as if to say: 'What can I do?'
Valhalla beckoned. As I pulled against the barmaid, the other one started to pull me, so that we became a scuffling, wobbling whole, like a drunken centipede, each bit of its body with a volition of its own so that it moves and wriggles every which way, but never gets anywhere.

Then the cute barmaid made a mistake: releasing one hand, she rubbed thumb and forefinger together in a universal sign-language and shouted what was probably the only English word she knew: 'Money!' This gave me the chance to give Clive one final wrench, and get him into the taxi, where he sat unhappily all the way back to the college.