Thank 上帝 It's 周五

As the weekend landed, I tried to enlist some of my classmates for some Friday night dinner and competitive (but pointless) activities (see bowling, pool, bar games). Most of my classmates, however, were otherwise occupied, leaving me with my slightly odd Polish classmate with whom I didn't much fancy going on a one-on-one date.

I tried Guan Chen. No luck. An 'activity with his course' for the evening. I suddenly realised how much of a loner I was in this city! All part of building character and independence I rationalised, and went to Taekwondo class instead.

In between 下劈 and 横踢 kicks, I got to chatting with my training partner for the evening - a fourth year Communications major at Harbin Institute of Technology. Encouraged, I asked the lead student after class, 王威松 (Wang - another one! - Wei Song) and some of the other older students if they wanted to get a bite to eat. They'd all already eaten though (not surprising, as it was 8:30pm by then).

"Let's go some other time. I'd like to ask you about English and England anyway" Wei Song said as I made my exit.

"Do you mean how to swear in English?" I asked.

He furiously denied it, but the other students laughed and confirmed it as true, setting them off on a barrage of light-hearted but fantastically coarse swearing in the North-Eastern dialect.

"And introduce us to some foreign 美女 (fit girls)" one called out as I made my exit.

"He likes Koreans" his friend explained helpfully, and I called out over my shoulder that I'd try my best.

For dinner, I thought I'd get some more barbecue from the restaurant under my flat. Walking past the window, I thought I spied crazy, crazy Yu Yang in the corner so I spun on my heels and power-walked round the corner, then sought refuge in the first clean-ish restaurant I saw.

The speciality was Lion's Head Meatballs (狮子头), so I ordered a tofu and meatball soup, with a side of 扒肉 (stewed meat) for good measure. The 扒肉 came first - thick, fatty slices of pork stewed until they were crumbling, and served in a thick gravy. The tofu and dumpling soup was just as good. There was actually only one meatball, but it was a huge lump of spiced mince pork which took up over half the bowl like a fat guy in a small jacuzzi.

As I ate, I flicked through my Culture textbook and eavesdropped on the next table where two guys were having a heated discussion. Both were red-faced from drinking, and as I watched, they called out for more 白酒. The waitress came over with a plastic jerry-can which wouldn't have seemed out of place at a petrol station, which she hefted up above onto her forearm and deftly tipped out into their glasses.

Red Faced Guy #1 apparently was having problems with someone at work, and Red Faced Guy #2 was trying to pacify his friend. Gesturing angrily, RFG #1 knocked his glass off their table and onto the floor. I winced as he clumsily fished around under the table for the bulk of the smashed glass, but thankfully his coordination completely failed and, from a seated position, he fell hard out of his chair. RFG #2 watched his friend woozily but faintly surprised as he flailed about on the floor like an upturned beetle, until RFG #1 eventually pawed his way back up to the safety of his chair.

"喝多了, 喝多了(I've had too much, I've had too much)" RFG #1 slurred by way of explanation to the waitress who had come rushing over at the commotion.

"Let's get a bottle of soft drink" RFG #2 suggested.

"3 kuai? (20p) It's not worth it". RFG #1 replied. In my head, I humbly submitted that it probably was, considering the hangover he was in for the next day. Anyway, the RFGs settled on (free) tea instead, and I could hear them continue angrily with their discussion even as I left. North-Eastern men. Alcoholic nutters, the lot of them!