break plans and ping pong progress

I got my one-on-one teacher's phone number today. Unfortunately, my one-on-one teacher is no longer the cute 25 year old of last summer, but rather a guy about my dad's age who today explained to me the reason his face is crooked: in the heat of the summer a few years ago, he left a fan on too long blowing from his left. The next day when he looked in the mirror, his left eyebrow was cockeyed and his mouth shifted slightly right. That sounds to me like something one of my uncles told me once, after he pretended to pull of his nose, all to my wide-eyed astonishment. At the time, I was 5 years old, and since then I've been pretty good at picking out those rascally uncle types trying to pull one over on me. As far as I could tell, my teacher was completely serious.

I actually really like this teacher. We have good learning vibes. In my one-on-one classes, I tend to ask incessant questions and get obsessive with language details. This guy digs that, even though it throws off his lecture and we end up only getting through half of what he's planned. We also chat about other things. He's pretty fit for fifty-something, and once told me about his morning routine of jogging and pull-ups. 'I can do thirteen pull-ups' he said, and stuck out his muscular forearm for me to sqeeze. Feeling inadequate in the pull-up department, I told him I'm more of a jogger; my legs are ripped, but the upper body could use a little work. Staying positive, he jumped up and came around the table to give my calf a squeeze, nodding respect. I know feeling another guy's leg in the states is a little fruity, but I think it's ok here. I've had my abs poked as well. When I told him I'd be staying around Harbin for spring break next week, he wrote his cell number on my midterm paper and said, "Give me a call if you've got time, we can go out and have a drink. I'm busy Wednesday and Thursday nights, any other time is good." I might just do it.

Next week is going to be my last mid-semester break in China. This time, instead of running around China like a chicken with my head cut off, I'm going to take it easy around Harbin. My roommate Jin Chao has a reasonably light class load right now, so the two of us will probably take off and check out one of the nearby Northeastern cities I haven't seen yet, maybe Shenyang or Changchun. I figure, why spend money on a plane ticket to the far corners of China, accompanied by Americans, then come back to to school feeling like the moldy towel that would be riding in my pack all week? The alternative: spend time with a native chinese speaker and friend, explore Harbin and surrounding areas, come back to school refreshed. I do feel a little guilty wasting a travel opportunity because I know how many people would kill for a week traveling in China, but I've got to face facts: I'm traveled out after last summer, fall, and winter breaks. Maybe in a few months I'd be ready to go again, but right now I'm looking forward to wandering Harbin and squeezing in a few extra ping pong lessons. And possibly drinks with my Confucianism prof.

Major breakthrough last time with the ping pong teacher: he backs up from the table and sends me some long ones to smash back. It's been weeks now practicing the most basic motions possible, half-hour forhand, half-hour backhand. Actually, this last time he only broke form for about five minutes, but I can hardly describe how good it felt. I don't even remember what it's like to play a real game anymore, I've been hitting against my ball-machine style teacher for so long. It's good exercise anyway. The sweat dripping off my chin leaves a puddle on the floor; it's a puddle because my chin doesn't move for an hour, held in place by the absolute regularity of my teacher's returns.