We rush out of the lights and glamour of the final banquet. Our week of scheduled events has concluded. Now to the life of Quzhou. We are swept off to a café/pub where we are warmly received by someone we briefly met hours ago on the opposite side of the city. I flit between English conversations, parenting advice, European/Chinese differences and Chinese conversations on children, in-laws, work, teaching, Quzhou. I wish my Chinese was better. Why doesn’t America value languages? Endorphins surge through my body—I can recall them now. Only too soon, we are shuttled back to our rooms, our quiet sterile rooms. But alas, food vendors on the corner save us. Stinky tofu is both delicious and offensive. Meat skewers are so warm and savory. Everyone is so friendly. I am called to a table of locals. They are wonderful: a banker and two police officers and one girlfriend. We drink, eat, (smoke). Such good English against my poor few Chinese phrases. These people are so generous and kind. We have drank all the beer of the vendors, cameras flash, and we have no choice, we walk to the river. I am stalling for the second time tonight, not wanting the sterile quiet of the upscale hotel room. I can feel the electricity and endorphins rush through me again. I’m heady with sensations, but I am out of excuses. We walk back. At good night I wish I could stall again or walk right not left, just for one night.
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