I was ready on time, because it was one of the few things I could control myself about how the day would go.  Everything operated under boundary conditions completely out of my control, starting with my suit jacket not fitting well with my pullover on. 

Once we arrived I was glad for my pullover, even if it did generate terrific static electricity every time I took off my suit jacket.  The university’s halls were unheated, and Beijing is cold in winter.  At least the room was heated, but with all the windows open, it didn’t feel like it.  I immediately closed all windows to minimize temperature effects on the measurements and asked for a sun shade, because without the sun would soon beat straight on the microscope for most of the day and distort the measurements or even make them impossible. 

The measurements ended up going as well as I could have hoped for.  Still not great, but if the tech guys back home wonder why this one thing is even on the brochures, getting a noisy signal is better than none at all.  But I couldn’t blame the customer for not yet being entirely convinced when lunchtime came around. 

For lunch, we went to the same restaurant as the last time.  We had various Chinese dishes: spinach with vinegar and peanuts, fish that we got to inspect beforehand, sliced beef, some yummy battered-fried-and-slathered-in-sauce chicken, and finally a fish soup of which I ate no more than a spoonful because in addition to being a bit spicy it was so acidic it burned the back of my throat.  The student with the best English said, “It is acid and ˈpÄ“-kwÉ™nt.”  He was much closer to the correct pronounciation (ˈpÄ“-kÉ™nt, –ËŒkänt; ˈpi-kwÉ™nt) than most Chinese usually are, but even after two repetitions I didn’t understand that he meant piquant.  I think I simply never expected a Chinese guy to know that word, but he proved me wrong, explaining: “One can say it is the opposite of ‘bland.'” 

I had another encounter with a squatterloo at the restaurant which I won’t relate in deference to my mother not appreciating the overabundance of those incidences in my last Chinese series.  If you really want to know, you can ask.  I will say this: ever since those posts, every visit to such a toilet has the ABBA song going through my head. 

Back at the university, we got treated to a marching drill of the pilots, who study there for two years before going to Australia for their last year for flight training.  I asked why Australia, to which he answered that perhaps it was cheaper.  Cheaper than China, cradle of cheap?  I didn’t pursue the matter.  

I spent the afternoon with more measurements and answering more questions.  I know I had to hide my irritation at some, when a student who had missed the morning asked for the same instruction I’d already given.  In the end, our partner had me write down what I’d done and prepare a space for signatures, the professor came, and after quite some hesitating and asking his students signed that I’d done what I said I’d done.  Apparently that means mission accomplished, but I don’t want to celebrate too soon… 

Back near the office I took two pictures of funny English I’d mentioned before. 

Doesn’t that imply we ought to break it? 

The characters to the right, 晩秋, mean “Late Autumn,” but the English reads differently. 

While we’re on Chinese characters, the characters for IKEA are 宜家, “good house” or “good home,” which brings me back to my main point: China Southern Airlines still serves peanuts.  Allergy?  Tough luck. 

(So you think this entry was posted past bedtime?  Well, I had a certain delightful young lady on skype for nearly an hour…)