Entry for 2011-04-14 Changting, the First full day, Part 1

The food at the Tseng temple last night was the most, err, challenging, so far. Look, the circular wooden dining tables were covered in a thin red disposible Saran wrap. Everything else though was their typical chopsticks, bowls and plates. That is to say, I had no idea how they washed it. As guests of honor, I couldn't exactly go check out their kitchen first, now could I? As I didn't understand this temple's real utility in their lives, I was only guessing it was some sort of community gathering place. And the way that works at home doesn't exactly give me much confidence in cooking inside one here. The only person serving all the dishes was a single woman. Oh, did I mention three were only men seated on our two tables in the temple? I saw no other women, or kids. It is kinda strange where you cannot bear the thought of asking all the questions you want to because your brain is too tired and pressed by everything going on around you, to think about trying to comprehend their answer.

In Fujian, they love their soups. So, of course, they serve lots of it tonight. I am not quite sure if I have impressed the kind of honor the Tseng family seems to be giving my dad. Later, they show me the plaque about my dad and his immediate family, and how he had contributed significantly to build this temple. They make sure to let me know, There is only other such plaque and place of honor in the temple. It is in the first main room you enter, on the right hand side, immediately left of the huge wall diagram of those who have donated significantly to this temple. All of these plaques are engraved in granite stone. Anyway, this dinner has a corresponding impressiveness to each dish, in quality, exoticness, and quantity.

That is to say that each dish would really scare Susan! I found all the dishes to have great weydow, and were quite exotic to me.

[Actually after writing this, i remembered the lunch table on the way to see the toulou. I think it is telling that I forgot that, because it was certainly scarier at first. I remember how the food five years ago on the way back from the great wall was the typical Chinese tourist food, with metal serving dishes, and gooey soupy dishes cooked for way too long. At this tourist trap which our guide (remember, we found this one by a girl under a sun brella standing by the road) had led us to, turned out to be the home of the tour guide. Who was a Hakka by race/tribe. Oh, did I forget to mention, that I only recently discovered that I am of the Hakka people's? So, our little group of four Tseng's, and the tour guide/restauranteur were all Hakka. The way Songtao ordered lunch for us was by standing next the cook and her display refrigerator with the ingredients. It actually looked fresh. The circular table was wrapped in that red Saran wrap. And the bowl,plate cups were in sealed packages. In the end, the food was way better than the great wall tourist trap, and while I didn't dare to eat much, I didn't feel hungry until dinner. Though now that I think about it, I never had hunger or stomach problems on my whole trip! (typing in incheon!)]

The next morning (thursday the 14th), we were woken by knocking early at our door. We had set our alarms for sleeping in, as we thought we were going to have breakfast with that Tseng scholar, who said he had connections with the hotel owner. We even heard we might have breakfast with the hotel owner! When we answer the door, it's that Tseng scholar, who is a distant cousin of some generations older than us. He's here to take us to breakfast! Err, okay, early by 90minutes. I invite him in wearing my skimpy hotel bathrobe, thinking he's our honored guest who apparently thinks we've been keeping him waiting. So I don't really think he'll stay long as we need to get ready to downstairs. But no, he's here to stay in the hotel room until we go down with him. Wow they really do things differently.

Typical Chinese breakfast. That means fried rice, lots of fried vegetable dishes, various tofu, cookies, cakes, toast, Breakfast Intestines, chicken pork soup with spinach, Yoou tiaou, ex-puffy tsoon yoou bing, a cook was stationed at the soup station, where they could poach your egg, or layer on chinese greens on your soup. There was no omlettes to be had here! Dad loved it. The hotel owner never showed up.

After breakfast, the Tseng scholar takes his leave. Songtao arrives with his cute 4 year old daughter and I get to introduce her to my iPad. Of course that warms her up to me a bit. Xiangching arrives on his motorbike, to help escort us back to his house. He leaves the bike at the hotel, and we squeeze in one car. Eh? Aren't we just going to his house? Why did he need to come to the hotel to squeeze in songtao's car? Songtao might have been gone from Changting a few years but... Anyway.

When we go back to Xiangching's house, there are more fireworks in the daytime! And then finally, we get to relax a bit, and meet the family members.

When I am introduced to someone, usually they think a moment and tell me the generational ranking we have to each other and thus what we call each other. Something like big brother, uncle, first cousin once removed, etc. NEVER, do I hear their names! I don't have to introduce myself using my name, Chinese "shun fuu", or "Larry". When the more familiar ones have to call me by name they usually pronounce my Chinese name as if were "Shamu" the sea world killer whale. I adapt. At least I don't have to memorize all their names at once.

I just realized, some readers may not know what i mean when i say i am of the same generation as another person. It does not refer to our actual age. It refers to the difference in hierarchy on the Tseng family tree dating back 26 generations. My dad was of the 23rd generation. So I am of the 24th. Jackson and Jenna would be of the 25th. Songtao and Xiangching are of the 25th. So, even though songtao and I were both born in 1968, he calls me uncle, and I call him nephew. Err, you should also know that his father is actually the son of the brother of my father. While I am diagramming him, I should mention at same brother of my father is also Xiangching's grandfather. My father had eight brothers, and two sisters. Only one of his brothers produced offspring. We meet dad's last remaining blood sister later today.

I can not keep straight who is who. never mind I am not expected to know their name. I cannot even keep straight what generation they are since generations can Span so many ages. Later dad tells me that when he apologizes and asks someone their specific name they don't answer. It is not part Of any introductions. Only their generation relationship is made clear. Apparently it is just not good manners to have to introduce yourself with their name. When self reintroducing themselves to me they stress the relationship ranking. Call me uncle, or call me big brother, or call me nephew, etc.... Agh! I wonder if this has anything to do with the Chinese sense of self worth. The family/hive is more important than the individual. [tongue in cheek here, I am getting tired.]

Oh, I forgot to mention something important since at first dinner at the ancestral temple. They like to drink. A lot. And it is encouraged by lots of toasts to individuals, especially the guest of honor. Oh, they know my dad being older than almost all of them, and there's a lot, can't keep up, and don't expect him to. So, they make me! My journalling suffers. I am typing this and actually the last two posts before this one on the way home.