Set the controls for the heart of the sun

A friend was chiding me last night for being "directionless".

I countered that I felt I had a very definite and consistent sense of direction, and that it was.... Astray.

Come along with me. It might be fun.

[In at least one mobile phone address book, I have now been re-labelled as 'Astray'. (It's always nice to be first on any list!) Soon, others will follow suit.]

Rounds

A week or so ago, I was briefly rather incensed when a female companion of mine demanded that I bought her a drink - on the grounds that it was allegedly my round.

Yes - ladies, alas, seem to be particularly bad at appreciating the subtle etiquette of round-buying. And this lady, I fear, does have something of a penchant for mooching drinks off people (well, off me, anyway!), albeit subconsciously. So, I was disinclined to cut her any slack on the issue on this occasion.


Well, [deep breaths]..... it was rather worse even than that. She didn't just ask me to buy her a drink, or suggest that it was my round. No, she ordered a drink without consulting me; avoided paying for it (not sure how she managed that, since the waiters in that bar are usually quite punctilious about extracting the cash from you as soon as they deliver a drink); waited for me to order another drink for myself (which was several minutes later, since I was by then on pints of draught to her G & T's, and we had got significantly out of sync); and then, when the waiter brought my drink, she just told him that I'd pay for hers as well - again, without addressing a word to me.

I'm afraid I fairly hit the roof! I think that kind of presumption is downright RUDE, in just about any circumstance. It certainly goes against what I understand to be the etiquette of mutual round-buying.


But that etiquette is rather subtle, and perhaps not universally accepted. I was brought up in a distant time and place, when concepts of social obligation ran rather deeper than they seem to today.

So, I will try to lay down what I see as being the essence of the round-buying culture.

And it is simply this: there is no entitlement.

It doesn't matter how long you've been buying rounds for each other, or how many rounds you think you are 'ahead' of someone else. Their choice to buy or not buy a drink for you (or anyone else in the group) is entirely up to them. Hopefully, generosity, the spirit of reciprocal good-feeling engendered by round-buying, and a sense of decency/obligation (if they really are 'behind', if they really do 'owe' you one, or more) will induce them to do so. But you cannot ask (well, not unless they are really egregiously mooching off other people). And you certainly cannot assume that they should pay for drinks you have ordered without reference to them.

Every time someone buys you a drink, you should be grateful (even if it was their 'turn' - and then some). Every time someone fails to buy you a drink (even though it is pretty clearly their 'turn'), you should try to forgive and forget (though if you notice that this is something they do regularly, you probably shouldn't be friends with them).

Things get messy after a while. People are buying different drinks. Prices vary in different bars. Some drinks may have been 'outside' of the 'round' system (someone 'treating' everyone to a shot, for example). Some people may have shelled out for things like taxis, a shared pack of cigarettes, or some food (in Beijing, it's quite common during a late-night bar session to send out for rou chuanr, the mini lamb kebabs which are the ubiquitous street snack; but that's usually regarded as a minor 'treat', since you really have to eat a heck of a lot of chuanr to rack up even the cost of a Tsingtao). It's just impossible to keep an exact account of who's paid what, and who might 'owe' the next round.

And that's the whole point. You don't try. The beauty of the round-buying culture is that it is founded on the twin principles of generosity and decency.

You don't mind if you end up spending a bit more than other people, because you enjoy buying things for your friends.

You do feel bad if you spend much less than other people, because you know it is very bad to be a mooch.

That's it - the thing has to be self-policing. As soon as you start trying to keep minute track of who's paid what, and who's owed what, and who ought to be buying the next drink, it just becomes an accounting exercise, and all the good feeling is dispelled.

Now, as I mentioned above, it may on occasion be possible to discuss the question of who should buy the next drinks, without completely destroying the mood. But that's the key thing - discussion. You must never, never, NEVER order a drink on someone else's tab without running it by them first.

That ought not to be rocket science. But, ah, young people today! I despair of them sometimes....

It's that time again...

Yes, that time of year - the curious more-Texan-than-Mexican holiday that immoderate drinkers can use as an excuse to get absolutely shit-faced on tequila shots and Margaritas. I have taken the precaution of declining all invitations to work tomorrow, so that my hedonism tonight can be properly uninhibited.

Weeble Solutions (6)

The Weeble's solution to the danger of wilting under interrogation and making potentially embarrassing revelations about the weekend's drinking escapades...

Stonewall. With elaborate dignity. "My recollection of the matter is imperfect."

New Picks of the Month

For this month's delve into the archives, I nominate....

from Froogville, IMLTHO, a post from July 2007 in which I rant against my least favourite acronym and the vice of false humility (none of that on here, I assure you);

and from Barstool Blues, I choose The Worthy Opponent, a celebration of my pal Tony 'The Chairman's phenomenal pool-playing skills (in honour of his recent 50th birthday!).

Enjoy.

Traffic Report - the blog stats for April

My oft-stated ambition to slow down a bit in my blogging output still shows little sign of being realised. Total number of posts was down last month, but only very slightly. In fact, considering I was hors de combat for two weekends (one devoted to a trip to the countryside, and one to a colossal bar crawl), and cut off from the Internet altogether for three days on top of that, the average of posts-per-day was in fact rather elevated. At least the overall volume of verbiage was reduced, especially on Froogville.

On Froogville last month there were 48 posts and 14,000 words.

On Barstool Blues there were only 35 posts, but still around 12,000 words.

According to Google Analytics, the Barstool is plodding along as ever with around 1,000 visitors per month, while Froogville's traffic has ballooned to 1,740 visitors last month (although Statcounter puts the figure higher, just above 2,000, and Sitemeter - which I'm lumbered with as my sidebar display - much lower! Put not your trust in traffic monitors...). That total, however, was much boosted by the popularity of my long nostalgia post, China and me (memories of my first encounter), on April 18th, which drew 400 visits over the following 3 days.

My Beijing Restaurant Guide is also drawing a little attention (though not as much as I might hope!).

The only other news of note I derive from my stats sites is that Froogville has drawn its first visitor from Brazil. I am particularly gratified by this since my mother was born there.

Thank you for continuing to read. (Oh yes, I have some stalkers - sorry, 'followers' - on both blogs now. What a responsibility!)

I shall endeavour to produce less but better over the coming month.

Bon mot for the week

"Drink is our good friend. And like any good friend, if you impose on him too much, he may kick you in the shins once in a while."

Froog

Sitting in taverns - a Sunday poem

We haven't had any A.E. for a while. And this one is so seasonally appropriate. The third stanza is superb.

The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May.

There's one spoilt spring to scant our mortal lot,
One season ruined of our little store.
May will be fine next year as like as not:
Oh ay, but then we shall be twenty-four.

We for a certainty are not the first
Have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled
Their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed
Whatever brute and blackguard made the world.

It is in truth iniquity on high
To cheat our sentenced souls of aught they crave,
And mar the merriment as you and I
Fare on our long fool's-errand to the grave.

Iniquity it is; but pass the can.
My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore;
Our only portion is the estate of man:
We want the moon, but we shall get no more.

If here to-day the cloud of thunder lours
To-morrow it will hie on far behests;
The flesh will grieve on other bones than ours
Soon, and the soul will mourn in other breasts.

The troubles of our proud and angry dust
Are from eternity, and shall not fail.
Bear them we can, and if we can we must.
Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

A.E. Housman (1859-1936)

Remembering Ian

My friend Ian Sherman, the rock music critic of Time Out Beijing, died last month, after a year-long struggle with cancer.

He was a 'top bloke', and a very, very funny writer, and is much missed by his many friends here in Beijing.

The back page of this month's edition of the magazine is devoted to a tribute to Ian. The anonymous author has been inspired to produce an obituary worthy of him: it is an exceptionally warm and amusing piece, and, quite simply, one of the best obituaries I've ever read of anyone.

Gallingly enough, it does not appear to be available on the website (although you can attempt to download a 'digital edition' of the entire magazine), but I do urge everyone to try to check it out.

Revenge of Genghis

Last night I was drinking a Mongolian baijiu distilled from fermented mare's milk.

Not as icky as it sounds. In fact, I was very pleasantly surprised. It's a pure, clear liquid, slightly sweet and very smooth, with just a hint of creaminess about it (in both flavour and mouth-feel). And none of the abrasiveness or the pungent aftertaste - that can transform a burp into a gag - which mars most baijiu.

However, I have to say, this morning (this afternoon) I have a very bad headache. I would almost say I had a hangover.

Make up your own back story

My favourite text message of the (very strange) evening:

"It's OK. Somebody put it under the yak."

Beer or wine?

Via the estimable JES, I have just discovered this excellent piece on the important question of choosing your drinks (occasioned by the unusual offer below). Do go and read it.

Geek Wars

I was enticed into Amilal (only saved from becoming an unspeakable den of trendiness by the fact that it is near impossible to find) for a nightcap last night, and discovered two eminent China bloggers - erudite young Americans (a rare phenomenon, yes, but it can happen) - in residence with their laptops.

As the third member of our little group observed, it was quite uncanny how relentlessly geeky the sequence of topics they discussed (and researched online) was; they seemed to be trying to outdo each other in geekiness. Nothing ungeeky seemed to be permitted.

I can't now recall the entire list of things we talked about, but this is a representative sample:

1) The new Star Trek movie

2) The Watchmen movie

3) The superiority of the original Watchmen comics

4) Etymology

5) Profanity

6) The etymology of profanity (specifically, how old is motherfucker?)

7) Favourite Lost characters, and whether their deaths would be distressing (or permanent!)

8) Possible explanations of the Lost universe

9) Flann O'Brien, as he relates to 8) above

10) Flann O'Brien - which is his best novel, or the best one for a first experience?

I kid you not. And that is only a taster. They kept this up for two hours without a break! Perhaps the last one is finally straying out of pure geek territory - though maybe I only say that because I am literary snob and an O'Brien fan.

Weeble Solutions (5)

The Weeble's solution to marrying a Chinese girl but being unable to stomach baijiu....

Toasting all his in-laws with malt whisky instead!

Now, that will be a sight to see.

HBH 131

On a bustling street,
an unseen accordion
hidden in the crowd.

A new boutique opening on Nanluoguxiang last night, and the delectable Marie-Claude was giving a street performance. She was quite invisible amid the throng of onlookers, but the disembodied music drifting down the street was all the more captivating for the obscurity of its origin. But I, of course, had to seek out the musician; and when I finally caught a glimpse, it was swoon time again.

We few, we happy few

A few pictures from Saturday's bar crawl. (Yes, crazily enough, I took my camera along. I felt it would give me the necessary incentive to maintain some modicum of self-control..... and it seemed to work!)

Whatever happened to MIDI?

The annual rock festival staged over the May Day break by Beijing's Midi Music School has long been the highlight of an otherwise drab and pointless holiday. I've been three or four times (well, probably six or seven times over four years), and it's always been a great day out in Haidian Park (although it is a hell of a long schlepp away on the north-west side of town, and taxi drivers never seem to have heard of it).

Last year, of course, it got cancelled at the last minute, because of the authorities' paranoia about unseemly public gatherings in Olympic year. A smaller version of the event was staged during the October holiday, but it was thrown together at very short notice, used obscure indoor venues, got just about no advance publicity, was bedevilled by conflicting venue information in the listings magazines, and found itself in competition with a rival festival staged by Modern Sky Records, and..... did I mention there was pretty much no advance publicity? No, it was, I fear, a bit of a disaster. Just about no-one that I know went to it. Very sad.

However, we had all been fervently hoping for a return to form this May - it looks as if the weather is going to be perfect.

Unfortunately..... well, maybe the organizers were too disheartened by their experiences last year. Maybe there are problems with the 'traditional' Haidian Park venue. Maybe the authorities are still antsy about large public gatherings, what with all the sensitive anniversaries this year (although there are two smaller music festivals going on: we have a new two-day jazz/folk event in Ditan Park, and Modern Sky is launching its Strawberry Festival - but that's in the distant suburb of Tongzhou). No Midi for us again this year. BOO!! I learned just last week that although the festival will be going ahead on a fairly big scale (not as big as two years ago, but comparable to its ambitions three or four years ago), it has moved to Zhenjiang. Where?? Well, quite. Some of my Chinese friends have never heard of it. Apparently it's in Jiangsu Province, a couple of hours' train ride south of Shanghai. That doesn't bode well for much of a laowai turnout, but hopefully there are enough local rock fans down there to make it a decent party.

Why on earth has this happened? Global Times, a new English-language newspaper here (state-run, of course, but supposedly slightly less hidebound by propaganda imperatives and therefore more 'appealing' to foreigners than the pedestrian and often laughably happy-clappy China Daily; it's a bit early to judge, since it was only launched a week ago) yesterday carried a story about the Midi Festival, celebrating its success over the past few years, and noting with regret that the capital would be missing out on it this year. However, there was no examination of the reasons for its cancellation last year, and no explanation for the change of venue this year. Is this just laziness on the part of the journalist, or is it a government decision based on 'public order' concerns and therefore unchallengeable? Your guess is as good as mine.

Well, we haven't lost Midi completely: some of the 'bigger' bands are scheduled to play evening concerts at Star Live. However, that's a bit of a charmless barn of a venue. And the whole point of Midi is that it's an open-air event. (And a big supplementary bonus, when the festival was held in the city, was that all the bands would play formal or informal gigs around the city's cosier, friendlier music bars for most of the week. Now, that was fun.)

I suppose I could check out the Modern Sky offering; but Tongzhou really is dauntingly far away, and I have no idea how to get there. The Ditan Park festival has the considerable advantages of featuring several performers I know, and being within walking distance; I've even been offered a free ticket for Saturday. Yep, I think that's likely to be my holiday entertainment. Might be worth checking out both the festival line-ups, though. (It seems like City Weekend is the best place to look; Modern Sky's website is mostly in Chinese, and I find the bloody The Beijinger website impossible to navigate! Strawberry Festival - Friday, Saturday, Sunday; Ditan Park - Friday & Saturday).

See you around, music fans. Have a fun holiday!

Weeble Solutions (4)

The Weeble's further solution to Chinese visa woes:

Go to Qingdao for a few days..... on the grounds that the visa officials there may be more easily convinced you are a 'tourist'.

I hope it works, Weebs.

What's with all the waffles?

The Great Nanluoguxiang Bar Crawl on Saturday happened to coincide with the Nanluoguxiang street fair (and also with Anzac Day - hence the lively crowd at Ned's, a few of whom joined us for the middle section of the crawl).

This would have been, I think, the fourth annual appearance of the fair - except that last year's event was abruptly cancelled because of Olympic "security concerns" (they may have held it in the autumn instead; I can't remember now). This year's, apparently, was thrown together at very short notice - the authorities decreeing that spring jollity should occur less than a week beforehand. The lack of advance publicity meant that it was rather less thronged than in previous years (when I learned of the event, I was concerned that fighting our way through the crowds would throw us off schedule). However, it did mean that all the bars (or almost all of them) were open during the day; ordinarily, quite a few of them remain dormant until 5pm or 6pm.

A number of bars along the street had set up waffle stalls for the day. A bizarre coincidence?! No I suspect it must have been part of the state-mandated festivities: "You must provide snack foods. And oh, by the way, my brother-in-law can rent you a waffle iron for the day...."

That is rather how things get done in China.

There were some more 'traditional' Chinese snacks on offer too - well, more traditionally popular in China today, but in fact thoroughly Western in origin: popcorn and candyfloss! But most of the regular snackfood stalls seemed to be shut down for the day. At the restaurant where we gathered for our preliminary lunch we were given the shocking news: "Meiyou chuanr." No kebabs??!! How can you be without the most ubiquitous of all Chinese street food (especially when this is something the restaurant usually specialises in)???? Animator Ben will bear a grudge against me over this for a long time.

I suspect the dead hand of government interference here. The cheap'n'cheerful snacks that people eat on that street every other day of the year are not impressive enough for this special event. Only more tourist-friendly foods will be allowed.

[I have little interest in eating waffles in the middle of the afternoon, myself. Particularly when pissed. And I felt that these stalls rather detracted from the bar-ness of some of the places we visited. Indeed, in some cases it disguised the fact that they were bars, and/or almost completely obstructed the entrance. Our second port of call (the one with the enticingly cheap Jim Beam and the amusing random word pairs spray-painted on the ceiling) was a particularly egregious offender on this score: since it had no name on display above the door (or no name in English or pinyin, anyway), it was recorded in my 'diary' of the day as "Nameless Waffle Place". Only later did I discover that - on this particular day - it was not the only "Waffle Place", nor even, I think, the only "Nameless Waffle Place" on the street.]

Bon mot for the week

"The happy accident happens about once a year. The rest are unhappy accidents."

Alexander Creswell (1957- )

"All happy accidents are alike. Each unhappy accident is unhappy in its own way."

Froog

[And by 'accident' I mean, of course, 'love affair'.]

We done the bugger!

Hell, yes - The Great Nanluoguxiang Bar Crawl has been completed.

With no liver failures, and only one concern-causing extended disappearance into the loo. And only brief lapsing into Alabama Song.

About 10 guys and 5 ladies joined me at various stages of the endeavour, although only the Chairman's brother, Terrible Tes, stuck it out with me all the way from one end of the street to the other. There were also a few people who dropped by to say hi when it was all over (including The Weeble, who now risks being re-christened The Feeble).

After struggling badly to stay 'on schedule' early on, we gathered pace in the later stages, and made it to our terminus at the Pool Bar well before 11pm (having kicked off with lunch at the other end of the street just after noon). Of course, we did then stay there for another five hours or so....

We did not, in fact, drink in all of the circa 25 bars I had identified on my preliminary reconnaissance. Bad Company was closed (in a rather permanent-looking, we've-given-up-the-ghost kind of way). We'd always planned to skip Guitar Bar, because it represents The Dark Side of The Force and we all hate it. Sandglass we also decided against - partly because it seems to be repositioning itself more definitively as a coffee shop rather than a bar (we had the "Is this a bar or a coffee shop?" debate outside almost every venue on the street, and in a number of cases it was quite a tough call - in general, if it had the word 'bar' in its name, we gave it a go; Sandglass's new business cards describe it as a café), and partly as a protest against the Chinese owner who has rather unceremoniously ousted the amiable Mongolian pair who had made the place such a success over the past three years or so. I think we also passed over Log-in Pub, although I can't now remember why - perhaps just because it is so dire. There were two or three other bars at the northern end of the street that we skipped because they were charmless and deserted. And the Backwards Bar (which should have been our penultimate stop on the street itself - the reliable haven of the Pool Bar round the corner on Gulou Dongdajie being destination '+1', a treat for the survivors, an incentive to keep going) excluded itself with its ludicrous pricing policy - 40 kuai for mixed drinks and 25 kuai for a Tsingtao (nowhere else around there charges more than 15 for a Tsingers, and, as we discovered, quite a few ask only 10; and Backwards really has absolutely nothing to distinguish it from any of its more budget-friendly NLGX competitors).

Nevertheless, I think we covered around 15 or so bars on the street - which is a pretty impressive effort. There were inevitably certain problems with people drinking too slowly and/or out of sync - which meant that some of us ended up having additional drinks in some of the bars while we waited for dawdlers. Moreover, the nucleus of our group, my American pals Nick O'Pix and Animator Ben, both arrived feeling badly hungover from Friday night..... and decided that the best way to overcome that problem was to start the afternoon with whisky shots. Thereafter, we drank whisky instead of or as well as a beer in many of the venues (plus, of course, the "2 metres of happiness" selection of flavoured house rums at Salud). It was, therefore, a very seriously alcoholic afternoon and evening.

Amongst the worthwhile discoveries of this escapade:

Dida Café Bar (our first port of call, at the very south end of the street) is really more of a coffee shop than a bar and has very flaky service, but..... it has a nice roof terrace, and it sells Jack Daniel's (and a few other whiskies, I think) for only 20 kuai (and Tsingtao for 10 kuai - take note, Backwards Bar!). That was a refreshingly low-budget start to our adventure - and we were tempted to stay put there.

The place just across the street from there is now an engagingly sleazy little dive bar, again with very cheap prices (Jim Beam is listed at only 15 RMB, although the staff were unaware of this and tried to charge me 25!). It suffers rather from the stigma of an infamous bust for selling fake booze a year or so ago, but I think it's now under different management, and all the drinks we tried there seemed kosher. (A bit of a bewildering set-up there: what had been the main bar area, fronting on to Dianmen Dongdajie, seems to have been separated off and rebranded as a café; the bit on the other side has recently been converted into a clothes shop; and the terrace up top - with the bizarre slogan 'Tennis Care Life' on its railing - well, it's not clear whether that's still open at all, or which part of the premises might give access to it.) Worth a look another time, I think. I particularly liked the "graffiti" on the ceiling, with its oddly significant word pairings like "sex dirty" and "gin hazard". Unfortunately, I have no idea what the place is called, since currently there are only a couple of indecipherable Chinese characters above the door.

The hotel opposite the Central Academy of Drama has a fantastic roof deck and very reasonable prices (but again, I failed to clock its name!). A good spot for sitting in the sunshine during the coming summer, I think.

The American hotdogs at Bar Uno - one of the better recent openings in the middle of the street - were a life-saver in the early evening.

And the bar next to Salud (err.... again "nameless"!!), although it is a rather lame copy of Salud and pretty uninspiring in almost every way, is notable for serving its cocktails and mixed drinks in knickerbocker glory glasses which must contain a treble or quadruple measure.

And.... er..... OK, that's about it. Overall, the exercise chiefly served to confirm our preconceived prejudices that most of the bars on the street are pointless, charmless, and almost customer-free. But it's good to have identified at least a few new potential watering-hole options.

"Why don't we do this every weekend??"

Polite applause from the pavilion

The Chairman turned 50 a few days ago.

This is a disturbing reminder of my own mortality - the sudden physical deterioration of incipient middle age paving the way towards senility and death. I feel this depressing milestone should not have been passed yet. I hadn't thought he was that much older than me. Worse, he's not that much older than me.

I rather doubt that I shall be looking as spry as he does when I reach the half century. Indeed, the way things have been going lately, I'm none too confident of making it that far at all.

I urged His Chairmanliness to keep his head, not play any loose shots; to dig in for the ton. I rather think he might have it in him.

Gan bei! (Surviving the baijiu ritual)

The other abiding memory - or memory loss - of my first visit to China involves my frequently being nearly baijiu'd to death by the English Faculties of the various teaching institutions I visited.

They like their liquor down there in the central western provinces; they seem to be far more hardy and determined drinkers than the Beijingers. I have very seldom become embroiled in an ordeal-by-baijiu since I've come to live here and, perversely, I rather miss it.

Back in '94, you see, foreigners were still an astounding novelty. Most of the small-town universities or teacher training colleges I was visiting would only have 1, 2, or 3 foreign teachers on their staff; and, as often as not, they would be the only foreigners in town. Shortly after I arrived, the friends I was staying with travelled to a remote town in the north of Hubei province for a conference of all the foreign teachers stationed in the surrounding provinces (almost all of them sourced via VSO, Britain's 'Voluntary Service Overseas' organization) - that was quite a party in itself; much baijiu drunk! These folks were all feeling so desperately deprived of non-Chinese company that they were ecstatic to be able to hang out with native English speakers, to meet someone new. These strangers became new friends almost instantly, and several of them invited - begged - me to come and visit them. It provided a convenient framework for my travel, so I was more than happy to oblige.

However, in each of the places I visited these foreign teachers, the arrival of another foreigner was a matter of even greater excitement to their Chinese colleagues; and in almost every case I was treated to a banquet (sometimes more than one). And in China, a banquet is always accompanied by toasting in baijiu, the dauntingly strong (and usually foul-tasting) local clear spirit.

I was warned by my new foreign friends what a trial this could be. Most of them had hints and tips to share with me for 'survival'. Most of these involved not drinking: you can discreetly spill your cup into your lap as you pick it up, or into a napkin or paper towel placed on the edge of the table for that very purpose.... or even just toss it over your shoulder as you raise the cup to your lips. You're usually drinking from a tiny porcelain thimble cup, or else from a small shot glass, so it's easy enough to conceal it completely behind your fingers; with just a little practice, you develop a conjuror's dexterity in briskly tilting the glass to empty most of its contents in a swift, concealed motion. The clutter of dishes on a Chinese dining table (and, usually, a large lazy-Susan in the middle) helps to obscure other diners' view of this subterfuge. And your Chinese hosts are mostly remarkably unobservant of such furtive behaviour. Nevertheless, the danger of exposure and 'loss of face' seemed too high to me. And it did seem to be a bit of a cheat. I experimented with these techniques a little, but it just didn't seem quite proper to me.

Other advice I was given ranged from ducking out of the toasting exchanges altogether by claiming ill health or teetotalism, to forcing yourself to vomit in the loo (in the good old Roman way), to drinking copious amounts of water to dilute the alcohol at every opportunity.

I wasn't very attracted by any of these, either.

No, the approach that I developed was more tactical, more psychological.

You see, the purpose of the baijiu-toasting tradition is to get the visitor drunk. (Many foreigners develop the paranoid conviction that the Chinese take special pleasure in trying to get foreigners drunk; but I think that the form is pretty much the same in an all-Chinese group.) Therefore, each member of the hosting group will toast you in turn. Individually. There are, say, 12 representatives of the English faculty and 1 of you. They may throw in a few group toasts as well, especially early on. But basically, the aim is to get you to down 15 or 20 shots before anyone else has had more than 4 or 5.

4 or 5, I think, is about the limit for most Chinese drinkers. As I've observed before, they allegedly lack the gene for metabolizing alcohol efficiently, so they tend to get red-faced, falling down, throwing up drunk very quickly indeed, especially once they start quaffing the baijiu. Indeed, a secondary aim of the procedure is to see which of the Chinese hosts will become ill or be forced to quit first. The weaker drinkers are usually goaded into entering the fray first - to embarrass them, and to give the stronger drinkers (or the more senior members of staff) a bit more breathing room.

So.... I worked out that what you need to do is get proactive: don't just sit there grinning like an idiot, waiting for the next toast; ALWAYS return a toast immediately. This is not common practice, and the Chinese usually get quite fazed by it. Imagine - if you've started with one or two group toasts, and then you are called upon to begin the individual toasting..... and then this crafty foreigner toasts you back! Suddenly you've had 4 shots in just over a minute and you realise you're on the fast train to oblivion.

It's a good idea to throw in a few group toasts as well. Just to put everyone on the back foot. English is acceptable, though a little bit of Chinese is obviously more impressive - even if it's just Youyi, 'friendship'! (Most of the Chinese toasts were rather elaborate, hackneyed political slogans, along the lines of "Celebrate enhanced cooperation between our two great nations!" I memorised one or two of these at the time, but I have forgotten them now.)

It was remarkable how well this worked. If you can get the first three or four toasters pissed while remaining upright yourself, most of the others will be intimidated into dropping out of the game.

Most. There will always be one or two hardcore guys who are determined to see whether they can outlast the foreigner. I think most times, despite my cunning tactics, I did end up drinking 15 or 20 shots, sometimes even more. I think I threw up at least once or twice as a result of these baijiu banquets (and I have only thrown up through alcoholic over-indulgence a handful of times in my life). I certainly retired to bed with the room spinning madly around my head on several occasions.

Ah, they were great times, though. I haven't really had quite that much fun in China ever since.

HBH 130

The room is spellbound
by her smile, her flashing eyes,
the nape of her neck.

Yes, I am unwisely seeking consolation for my latest (evidently doomed) long-distance infatuation by resuming a long-standing infatuation (no doubt equally doomed) with someone closer to home. Will I never learn?

Purposelessness

Despite the dingy weather and my continuing ill health and the distressing shortage of fully-committed participants, I am pressing ahead with my long-planned, oft-deferred mega-bar-crawl this weekend.

Of course, one of my Chinese friends I tried to entice along queried the point of it: "What are we celebrating?"

The Chinese, it seems, always need an ulterior reason for getting drunk; they don't like to do it for the sheer hell of it.

I replied:

"Nothing - but the spirit of adventure itself. It's like climbing a mountain: we do it just to see if it's possible, just to see if we can survive."

Yes, it's something like 25 bars in all. Survival may be an issue. Wish me luck!