A few weeks ago, one of my Summer Institute students casually mentioned that she and her Jinbi Primary School classmates have a 2 1/2 hour lunch break every day, during which they go home to eat, play, study, take a nap, etc. While this made me feel a bit better about how long their elementary school days are, (7:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.) a bit of panic set in when I realized what this information meant: no school cafeteria.
I've never been a good chef--any one of my family members or roommates could confirm that in a minute. I'm capable of making plain pasta and cereal, and I could stumble my way through a recipe or microwave instructions on the back of a package, but beyond that, I'm pretty much helpless. Most TFC schools have school cafeterias, and fellows can pay a few kuai to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner there 7 days a week. However, the four of us at Jinbi Primary School are on our own, which means learning how to cook, and shop for groceries, in this rural China town.
I am extremely lucky in this adventure as I was placed with the world's most patient Chinese co-fellow, who was willing to walk me through every second of grocery shopping and answer my incessant questions. Though she rolled her eyes and joked about my incompetence, Qiongfang accompanied me through every isle, telling me what to buy and carefully explaining how to use each item.
I've never been a good chef--any one of my family members or roommates could confirm that in a minute. I'm capable of making plain pasta and cereal, and I could stumble my way through a recipe or microwave instructions on the back of a package, but beyond that, I'm pretty much helpless. Most TFC schools have school cafeterias, and fellows can pay a few kuai to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner there 7 days a week. However, the four of us at Jinbi Primary School are on our own, which means learning how to cook, and shop for groceries, in this rural China town.
I am extremely lucky in this adventure as I was placed with the world's most patient Chinese co-fellow, who was willing to walk me through every second of grocery shopping and answer my incessant questions. Though she rolled her eyes and joked about my incompetence, Qiongfang accompanied me through every isle, telling me what to buy and carefully explaining how to use each item.
After an hour or so in the store, we headed to the open air market, the only place in Dayao that sells fresh food, such as vegetables, fruit and meat. (What Americans would consider grocery stores only sell packaged foods) Though I had roamed the stands of the outdoor market before, the endless piles of food seemed much more overwhelming now that I was actually expected to buy their goods. Somehow or another we sifted through the stalls and managed to find fresh corn grown in town, the most delicious peaches I have ever tasted, juicy red tomatoes, and green, not-so-sure-what-they-actually-are beans.
Once we had our fruits and vegetables in hand, we headed over to the animal-product section of the market in search of eggs. Here, tables full of slabs of meat line the path, and stallholders lazily swing plastic bags tied to sticks above their goods in order to keep the flies away. Though there are no live animals at this market aside from the stray dogs that roam between the stalls (live animals are sold by the hundreds on market day), many stands keep the animals nearly intact, leaving no guesswork in determining what type of meat is being sold.
As we wandered through the stalls, my American co-fellow and I couldn't help but be confused about the lack of refrigeration. We asked Qiongfang how we could ever buy eggs, yogurt and meat, as none of us have refrigerators in our hot-plate and rice cooker "kitchens." Continuing with the theme of the day, she just laughed, told us we were ridiculous, told us to stop being so American, and made us buy everything anyway.