A Great Honor: the Formal Luncheon

On Monday, after teaching my first class, Sam informed me that the school’s officials would like to have a luncheon the following day in our honor – mine and Victor’s honor. Victor is the other foreign language teacher. Dirty apartment notwithstanding, I was excited and touched at the lengths the school was going to make me feel wanted and welcome.

Although I had anticipated some sort of formal meeting with the school’s officials, I did not anticipate a luncheon. Planning for such an occasion while still in the States, I had remembered to pack at least one formal outfit: a skirt with matching blouse, hose and appropriate shoes. My friend Lisa and I also had gone shopping to buy small gifts for any dignitary or official I might meet. It is proper Chinese custom for visitors to offer such gifts, and she and I had a great time selecting a variety of key chains and lapel pins depicting Texas for me to offer my hosts. Come time for the luncheon I loaded my trinkets into my purse and Sam escorted Victor and me to the teacher’s cafeteria, where the feast was to be held in a private dining room.

Finally, I learn where the teacher’s cafeteria is!

But that’s beside the point.

A server asked what I would like to drink; erring on the side of moderation (and culture), I asked for hot tea. Victor quickly sided with my choice, and then we were immediately trumped by an official looking man who had just entered the room and proclaimed that we would all drink beer. Who am I to argue with the man that turned out to be the Communist Party Chairman assigned to the school? As he was the most important figure, I presented him with one of the nicer key chains Lisa and I had selected after shaking his hand.

In short order, the other dignitaries arrived: the University President – harried and pressured, the Dean of Languages - a gracious and beautiful woman, the Secretary of Foreign Teacher Affairs who struck me as rather bawdy but fun to be around, and, to my delight and surprise, the Head of Maintenance. Only a former maintenance technician knows how often maintenance is overlooked! Each got a Lisa-picked trinket, their importance within the school hierarchy denoting the substance of the gift they received.

After that, beer flowed like water. We toasted each other, our joint venture, our friendship, my being left-handed, our apartments and the promise that, if Victor and I stay next year we would get new apartments. We toasted the Chairman’s recent return from France, and the fact that he and I could speak French together. We toasted the English language… we might have even toasted the flies buzzing around; I’m not exactly sure. After so many toasts, I, a non-drinker, ended up pretty toasted myself! I do remember toasting the maintenance man and telling him we have a similar background. I even ventured a toast to the whole group in Chinese: Let’s drink to our friendship!

Poor Sam! He is also a non-drinker, and it showed: his youthful face suddenly grew haggard and red around the eyes; spots of red also bloomed on his cheeks. He whispered on the sly if I could tell he was getting smashed; I took one look at him and gravely nodded my assent. We made a pact to help each other down the stairs and back to our apartments after lunch was over. Victor is maybe of hardier stock, he did not appear to suffer from all of the drinking.

And then came the food. This private dining room boasted a typical Chinese large-gathering set up: a big, round table with a glass lazy susan covering most of it; allowing just enough room for each diner’s place setting comprising of a tea cup, a glass, a rice bowl, a sauce dish, chopsticks and chopstick rest – a little bench for your chopsticks to rest on when you’re not using them. The food was placed on the lazy susan one dish at a time, the glass was then gently spun and another dish brought in and placed. As is customary, the dishes stop in front of the guests so that they might have the first sampling of the food being offered.

Oh, bad news! The first dish was fish! A whole fish, pan-fried and cut up in chunks: head, tail, fins, bones and all. Familiar dread coursed through me: fish has not crossed my lips but maybe a handful of times since I got so horribly sick as a child after eating a bad piece of fish and being sick for days afterward. As the glass turntable advanced past the maintenance man, past Sam, slowing… slowing… in front of me I decided to ‘give my hosts face’ and eat at least one bite of this local specialty, prepared for this special meal.

I grabbed my chopsticks and reached for the smallest piece possible, which to me looked like a huge chunk. Everyone was thrilled that I knew how to use chopsticks; I heard their approving comments and felt their eyes on my suddenly sweating face as I put the bite of fish in my mouth…

And I discovered a unique problem that will forever absolve me of eating fish! It is a condition completely beyond my control! Much to my joy and relief, I am prevented from eating fish because I cannot feel the bones in my teeth. I wear full dentures and anyone knows that dentures are insentient pieces of plastic held in your mouth by suction. If the inside of my mouth had been stabbed by 20 fish bones I would not have known it, protected as I am by my dentures. Elation! Rapture! I have discovered a reason to never attempt to eat fish again!

Maybe my hosts thought I was drunk, careless or foolish as I ate the fish with no regard for bones. They urged Sam to caution me of the bones. Bones? What bones? I didn’t feel a thing… in my mouth! But I was giddy with relief that I had passed the ‘fish test’ almost as much as with the fact that I will never have to eat fish again.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. The officials made conversation; it turns out that they do not get to see each other very often as they are busy with important matters while running the school, and this get-together was as much for them as for Victor and I. Sam, Victor and I entertained ourselves. The food was delicious – fish notwithstanding, and after a time, we wrapped things up by… you guessed it: toasting each other farewell!

I went back to my apartment and napped substantially. After a meal like that, who wouldn’t? Poor Sam still had a lot of work to do, so no nap for him!

Normally that would be my closing line, but I have to add one more: Lisa, you were on my mind that day, and a shadow of you was by my side as I reflected on your good sense in suggesting the variety of key chains. I’m very glad I went with your choices; you have great taste and sure know how to pick out a gift! Thanks for being there with me, in spirit.