China Reflection

This is another entry that takes place during the end of my tenure as an oral English instructor at Yichun University in Jiangxi Province. During the last week of my stay I had individual class parties with all of my 12 classes. The events that take place in this story detail the party with class 8.

I take a sip of my beer and look around at the chaos that surrounds me. There are cigarette butts on the floor, smoke hovers in the air. Scraps of uneaten oil saturated pork soak in the gigantic serving dish of spices that the waitress brought to our tables only half an hour before. Three quarters of my students’ faces are bright red, the result of drinking too much beer. Some of them are laughing, some of them are crying. As with any party in China, some of them have started singing. It’s gotten to the point where the alcohol has begun to affect people’s hearing. Voices raise, and people start to chant, daring others to drink entire bottles in one gigantic gulp. My colleague, Simon, and I both jump in from time to time. We have various toasts with particular students who may have gotten under our skin during the past semester. Their English names whiz by my ears… “Frank,” “Veronica,” “Monica,” “Candy,” “Baby,” “Lance,” “Poppy,” “Jennifer,” “Geory.” They’re all here, toasting each other, toasting us.

According to mentalhealth.net, “research has shown that many Asians have a deficiency or complete absence of a liver enzyme that breaks down alcohol.” I can believe it. Every time I drink with Chinese, it’s not uncommon for their faces to turn bright red after only one or two beers. After three or four, the shouting and singing starts. After four or five, the tears and confessions start to pour out like a water spout. After five or six… we won’t go into that. This quick change of complexion is often referred to as the “Asian flush.” I noticed it when I was in Japan as well. It seemed that, as I was just starting to sip my drink, I was already being surrounded by a sea of red balloons… the faces erupting in crimson due to their lack of tolerance. There are often exceptions to the rule, and I’ve met quite a few Chinese who can hold their liquor quite well. In fact, sometimes at parties it seems as if the fact that one can hold his liquor is the reason why he was invited in the first place. Whenever I’ve attended a party with school leaders and big wigs, there always seems to be one amongst the group who is the designated “drinking machine.” It is the drinking machine’s job to try and get the foreigners drunk; at least that’s been my experience. When I go to these parties, I’m often asked, “how much can you drink?” They want to know how much bai jiu (a Chinese grain alcohol that can substitute for rocket fuel, I’m sure) I can drink. I don’t know how much alcohol I can drink. I don’t know how many beers I can drink. When I drink it’s not to get drunk, and it’s not to count how many bottles I can drink. Perhaps during my freshman year of college I held on to this macho competitive drinking spirit, but certainly not when I’m nearing my 29th birthday. So, when I’m asked this question, I’m never sure how to answer, as I’ve never counted.

“Hey, Jeffrey, how much can you drink?” Monica asks me, her face already turning beet red. “I’ve already drunk nine bottles,” she says, not waiting for me to answer. Her boyfriend, who is simply named “J.C.” sits in a chair and smokes a cigarette. I think to myself, nine bottles? That’s impossible. How is she making calculations? The Chinese tend to buy large 40oz beer bottles when they drink. If Monica had drunk 9 bottles already, I’m certain she would be on the floor right now. It seems to me that whenever I join these class parties of 40 or more students, all math skills are also thrown out the window. Often, students come up to me and tell me that they have drunk “11 bottles,” “15 bottles,” “18 bottles” of beer, etc.

One of the explanations for the mathematical miscalculations may be that the students are not actually counting bottles of beer, but glasses of beer. Often when drinking beer in China, one pours the 40oz of beer into small glasses. These glasses are just big enough to down in one mouthful, and apparently gulping them down is the preferred drinking method. When one drinks in China, it’s usually not to enjoy the taste of the beer. In fact, many of my students hate the taste of beer. I look over at the disgusted face of a student named, “Baby,” who is coerced by her friend, “Candy” into drinking a glass. According to her expression, it seems that she is drinking rotting death. As with college life in the U.S., drinking is usually more of a way to socialize with friends, and you normally don’t drink by yourself. Where we might say, “cheers,” they say, “gan bei,” which literally translates to “dry glass.” Students come up to me, one at a time, or in groups, and they raise their glass to me and say, “gan bei.” After the utterance of this word it’s a race to see who can drain the glass the fastest. Sometimes after drinking the glass, the person who toasts might turn his glass upside-down, just to prove that the glass has indeed been emptied of all of its beer. At a party it’s hard to enjoy the beer, as you are assaulted with one toast after another.

During these class parties, it’s always the boys who suffer the most. 95 percent of the students in my classes are females. The reason for this uneven distribution is that their major is English, and females usually score higher on English tests than boys do. Still, there are a few boys in each class. And in order for a boy to become a “man,” he needs to prove he can drink, apparently. On this particular night, Monica challenges Frank to a drinking contest. With students chanting both of their names, they both lift up their gigantic bottles of beer and chug them as fast as they can. As soon as Frank finishes drinking with Monica, another student challenges him to the same drinking duel. The second time around, Frank finishes his beer not so smoothly, the beer fizzing down his chin and dripping onto his shirt. Both Frank and Monica have a “gf” and “bf” (short for “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” - often students cannot even say the words without giggling with embarrassment). Monica falls into her “bf,” J.C.’s lap. Frank’s “gf,” “Lulu” rests her head in his lap. He lights up a cigarette, his job done for now… possibly another future drinking machine in the making?

Another student named “Lance,” is commanded by his classmates to drink with his “gf,” “Poppy.” But this toast that the two lovers will do is no ordinary toast. In order to show their affection for one another, the two criss-cross their arms, one over the other, and drink their beer together. Apparently, this method of toasting is reserved for a bride and groom at a wedding ceremony. The other students hoot, “ooooh,” and “ahhhh,” as this action is supposedly risqué. Simon and I also do a couple of “criss-cross toasts” with two female students, just to get a reaction. If you can’t beat them, join them?

After the large party, some of the students head off to go to a “KTV” bar to sing karaoke. Others go back to their dormitories. Simon and I are still feeling fresh and having fun. This might be the last time that we get to see some of these students before they graduate. We take a small group of students consisting of Frank, Baby, Jennifer, Lily, and Lulu to a neighboring bar to chat. It’s our hope that we can just relax and have a chat with them . As soon as we enter, however, our hopes are dashed as Frank and Jennifer begin drinking beer once again… Frank insists that Jennifer didn’t drink her glass down the last time he toasted her. Simon and I exchange glances and shrug our shoulders. The toasts continue and the games begin once again. Asian Flush 101 has yet to be dismissed.