Hot Pot and Hot Politics

I finally got round to asking a few of my classmates at Taekwondo out for dinner during training today. It was a quiet session anyway, but I persuaded all six adults to come eat at a neighbouring hotpot restaurant after class, which after an 8:30pm finish meant suffering a rumbling stomach until 9:00pm.

As it turned out, by the time we'd changed and gathered outside our sports centre, one of the girls decided she'd better catch her bus home, taking the remaining girl with her, so I went with the three 师兄 (male senior classmates): Wang Lei - an HIT student with impressive language skills: incredibly good Japanese and respectable English; Wang Meisong - another HIT student whose English name, Bruce, was taken from Bruce Lee; and another guy whose name I've completely forgotten, who works as a 公务员 (public servant).

We picked our way through the drizzle and around the puddles in the pockmarked pavement to a 炭火锅 (coal-fired hotpot) a couple of doors down, and took a seat at one of the handful of tables in the cosy little restaurant.

The ceiling was covered in pipes, which descended to a couple of feet or so above each of the small tables. The waitress slid a tray onto our table which she filled with a shallow layer of water, then put a traditional coal-fired barbecue onto the tray before plugging it into the pipe over our table. By way of a small sliding tray, we could control the air intake on the thing, regulating the heat. Not exactly elaborate, but a quirky alternative to the simplicity of an electric hot-plate.

The downside is that it still got a bit smoky, and that the pot's capacity, around the hot central funnel, was limited. The flipside, I was reliably informed, was that this was the best-tasting method of hotpot in the world!

We ordered a couple of Harbin Beers. Wang Lei professed that he couldn't drink much and I jokingly asked what kind of Dongbei man couldn't drink. When he replied in turn that in that case he wasn't from Dongbei, the other two, confused, made startled exclamations and asked him where he was from! I've always thought effort is everything, and respect his attitude. Despite turning bright red after the first glass, he gamely drank with the rest of us, and even continued ordering beer.

The food was the usual mix of mushrooms, veggies, thin-sliced lamb, and tofu. Nothing spectacular but I imagined I could taste the different the coals were making. We got to talking. It turns out Meisong fancied himself a bit of a dissident. He argued passionately and surprisingly eloquently against the government's failures and I was a bit taken aback to find myself defending the regime.

Some of his arguments were surprisingly subtle, while others were pretty dogmatic "China is a country where success is not based on talent, but on 关系 (connections)".

I won't go too in-depth for fear of misrepresenting him, but I couldn't help but disagree with him quite strongly on some points. I asked him why he was so dissatisfied with his lot: middle-class, at a top-flight university, and with all the prospects in the world and he argued that he lacked freedom.

"Freedom to do what?" I asked.

"Freedom of speech for a start".

"Listen to yourself. You're criticising the government and the whole restaurant can hear you!"

"If I spoke like this in University, I'd disappear! I'd be taken away!"

At this, Wang Lei choked on his beer.

"Nonsense!"

I looked at the civil servant who shook his head.

"Unlikely... but maybe you'd get told off or even expelled..."

Wang Lei had a much more optimistic view of modern China.

"It's getting better and better. There's no other time I'd rather live than today".

"I'd rather have been born ten, twenty years earlier." Meisong responded. "That way, at least I would have had a job for life".

"铁饭碗 (an iron rice bowl)?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, referring to the long-gone concept of job-security for life.

"Me too" interjected the civil servant.

I argued against it on economic grounds - where would motivation for work to come from? - and Wang Lei nodded vigorously.

Ironically, the civil servant was a party member, although he was careful to point out that most people joined up to get ahead in their careers. Wang Lei was too, although in his case it was also because he supported the party. Meisong for his part said that he would never join.

By now, the rest of the restaurant's patrons had gone home, and we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by the staff - an extended family group, who sat at neighbouring tables, facing us and smoking while listening.

"Let's change the subject." Wang Lei suggested.

"... or these guys will report you and make you disappear." I cringed at how insensitive I was being, but the others laughed warmly.

The rest of the evening we taught each other slang (or just swore at each other), discussed movies and games, and talked about girls. Despite what we'd discussed before, it could have been any group of guys, anywhere in the world.

"Let's drink up and go" Wang Lei suggested, when even the boss, a plump and kind-faced middle-aged woman, came out and sat down nearby.

"Oh no, no need to rush. It's interesting to hear you all talk." She issued some orders and the waitress brought us a plate of cold pickled vegetables from the kitchen. "Eat! Eat!"

After another half hour it felt like we were taking the piss, so I repeated Wang Lei's suggestion. Outside, it had started to snow again, unusual at this time of year even for this part of the world, and we slid down the stairs and off on our respective ways.

A fascinating insight into some of the divergent opinions of China's modern youth. Good food, great company and an eye-opening experience. It doesn't get much better than that.