On Saturday I attended Whiskey Live in Auckland. Whiskey Live is a whiskey event that creeps around the globe dousing various cities in whiskey for the day. The Auckland event was mostly about Scotch, with a single lonely ‘Bourbon’ producer, a little whiskey from Tasmania and New Zealand, and I think some Irish whiskey floating around somewhere. In the U.S. there is probably a little more American whiskey. Maybe the Auckland event could have done with some more American whiskey, but then that might have distracted the focus a little.

At any rate there was a huge range of Scotch whiskey. All the Scotch distilleries I knew of were represented, plus plenty I had never heard of. The range of whiskey was impressive enough, but the venue provided the finishing touch. The Civic Theater is a truly amazing piece of art deco architecture and filling a grand old building like that with fine whiskeys and a crowd gathered specially to sample them made for a somewhat magical occasion.

As I walked in a got handed a bag full of goodies, most crucially a tasting glass and a pile of tasting vouchers. I flicked through the guide book to see what was on offer and found way too much information to actually take in. I tried finding a table and looking through the book in detail. This didn’t work either though. A cocktail competition starting up in the bar across from my table threatened to distract me further, the guide book contained too many possibilities to digest, and time was of the essence. I decided to start by sampling the New Zealand ‘bourbon’, and take a random wander looking for the New Zealand bourbon producer as a way of getting my bearings.

The show was divided into three levels. The circle level of the Civic seemed to mostly be Islay whiskeys, the foyer level offered a cocktail making competition and whiskeys for retail sale, and the lower level contained the main show floor, a huge range of Scotch whiskeys plus a few from New Zealand and Tasmania. The New Zealand ‘bourbon’ was on the lower level so I started there.

The Old Busman ‘bourbon’ came in two varieties, a seven year old black label and a four year old gold label. I started with the black label. I hadn’t been sure what to expect but it was a pleasant enough surprise. It was smooth to a fault with some vanilla and a little bit of tannin. While pleasant it was not very exciting or complex though. It seemed like it could make a nice smooth mixing whiskey. The distiller compared it to Gentleman Jack. It has been too long since I’ve tried Gentleman Jack. However, I remember it as being a pleasant enough whiskey that was too smooth for its own good. There may be something in the comparison. After that I tried the gold label. This one was less pleasant, coming across initially with a slightly peculiar whiff of old sock or similar. An odd taste like that could almost be impressive in an Islay whiskey but in a bourbon it was just odd. After a few sips that smell seemed to dissipate. All in all the New Zealand bourbon was nothing I would bother to seek out again. The production methods were also apparently slightly unorthodox, with the spirit being matured in stainless steel tanks and ‘oaked’ using wood chips. While the result was not unpleasant it also lacked character.

Next I tried a couple of whiskeys from Sullivans Cove, a Tasmanian distillery. They were both decent if not especially memorable. The second was the show bottling, and was a very light and smooth whiskey. It wasn’t the type of thing I would normally drink but good nevertheless.

After that I headed upstairs to try some Ardberg. The 10 year old was the only variety on offer. Compared to the Islay whiskeys I am more used to drinking (i.e. Laphroaig or Lagavullin), it was anything but peaty – despite the brand rep (who unlike most of the reps there didn’t really seem to be a whiskey person) talking up that aspect of the taste. Still, I had to agree with her that there was something quite elegant about it compared to others from Islay. It was less exciting as some but definitely nice.

I spent a little while watching the cocktail competition, and by that stage it was time for the first of the two master classes I had enrolled in. The first master class was titled Secrets of Scotland and basically introduced five lesser known distilleries. The class was taken by Dominic Roskrow of Whisky Magazine. The session was a little light on solid information about the distilleries and whiskeys but he was an entertaining speaker. The five whiskeys are summarized below:

- The first whiskey was from the Arran Distillery on the Isle of Arran, which is Scotland’s newest distillery. I found it unusual stuff. It reminded me a little of Chinese Baijiu, with some odd fruity flavors. Unlike Baijiu the experience was clearly pleasant rather than unpleasant. Dominic described it as creamy, something I didn’t pick up myself. Despite this being an island distillery the whiskey wasn’t peated. I guess that was one reason the fruit flavors were so evident. I was not sure how much I actually liked this but it was one of the more interesting whiskeys of the day and one I would definitely like to try again.

- Whiskey number two was a Bunnahabhain from Islay. This one was mildly smoky, rich and sweet. It was extremely drinkable stuff but somehow not a favorite with me. Dominic reckoned it was great stuff for a session. He is right but I found it a little one dimensional.

- Number three was a rare one, a discontinued 15 year old Longmorn from Speyside that had been couriered over specially from Scotland. Apparently Pernod Ricard now owns Longmorn and decided to discontinue the 15 year old and replace it with a 16 year old at twice the price. The result has been that the 16 year old has failed to take off while the 15 year old has become a collector’s item. This one was delicious stuff. It was smooth and rich with caramel flavors, but simultaneously sharp and full of citrus and orange notes. Definitely a stand out. Longmorn shares warehouses with Benreiach, who make some unusual peated Speyside whiskeys (e.g. Authenticus).

- Number four was an independent bottling of Caol Isla. Caol Isla is widely used in blending, especially by Johnny Walker. Apparently Caol Isla only recently started getting promoted as a single malt, in response to the shortage of Lagavulin – supposedly caused because of a miscalculation of barrel sizes when planning Lagavulin’s inclusion in the malts of Scotland whiskey pedestal you see in bars and bottle stores. The whiskey was peaty but pleasantly smooth at the same time.

- Whiskey number five was Ledaig (pronounced le-chig), a peated whiskey produced at the normally non-peated Tobermorey distillery on the Isle of Mull (same side as Islay). Two peated whiskeys in a row may have been too much for me and this one did not come over as pleasantly as the previous one. Once again it was peaty but beyond that it did not make much of an impact on me.

With the master class finished I went and did some more exploring. I tried one of the Benriach whiskeys. I meant to try the Bunnahabhain Islay on the neighboring stand but somehow forgot to do it. I also tried the Tullibardine port wood finish and didn’t like it that much. It was kind of heavy. Obviously when you taste too many whiskeys in quick succession your perception starts to get a bit out of whack, but I think these dark whiskeys finished in richly flavored barrels are just a bit much for me.

I watched some more of the cocktail competition and saw an English bartender from Sweet (a bar I have been hearing a lot about but have yet to visit) making an interesting drink using Famous Grouse, homemade blueberry liqueur, rosemary flambéed in Grand Marnier, and possibly some other ingredient I have forgotten. It looked impressive and the result had an interesting rosemary flavor. I was not sure if the whiskey carried through very strongly but my taste buds had probably been pretty much desensitized by that point. Upstairs I tried some Laphroaig Quarter Cask and got chatting with a guy who had had been in the previous master class, visited the distillery, and spent the next couple of years flavoring his BBQs with a chunk of peat he cut out of the ground there.

By this stage it was time for the next round of master classes so I headed back for another session with Dominic Roskrow. This session was on the influence of wood on whiskey and was more interesting than the previous one. I guess the nature of the topic was such that it was easier to give some interesting information. In my by that stage somewhat inebriated state, the following bits and pieces struck me as interesting. Apparently around 75% of the taste of whiskey comes from wood. Actually it would have been fascinating to have had the chance to try some fresh, unaged whiskey in this class. That would be the real way to learn the influence of wood on its flavor. I wonder why they didn’t do something so obvious? Apparently wood also takes out of whiskey as well as adding to it, with fatty acids remaining in the wood after it has been used to age whiskey. Interestingly, the ‘ale’ from which whiskey is distilled is a sour ale that is purposefully produced in unhygienic conditions, something like a Belgian Lambic. The strength of that beer is around 7%. Again tasting some of that beer would be a good way to learn more about how whiskey gets its flavor. Never mind. On the subject of caks, apparently Bourbon casks are 1/10 of the price of sherry casks (due to the Bourbon regulations mandating new casks ensuring a continuous supply of used ones). Meanwhile, sherry cask conditioned whiskeys are much darker than bourbon cask conditioned ones. Anyway, on to the whiskeys, of which again there were five:

- Number one was an Auchentoshan Three Wood from Glasgow, matured successively in Oloroso, Pedro Ximenez and Bourbon casks. My notes were getting scanty by this point though I remember enjoying this one.

- I can’t read my own writing to see what the name of the distillery was for number two. It looks like Glenfiddich but that somehow seems wrong. In any case, it was an ‘oak cross’, meaning that it was matured in a mixture of virgin and bourbon oak. I think the ratio was that 1/15 of the whiskey was matured in virgin oak casks and the remainder in the usual bourbon casks. In any event it was tasty.

- Number three was an organic whiskey. It seems I gave up on trying to spell the distillery – it looks to have been a ‘Ben-something-or-other’ [added later: I believe this was Benromach]. This was maybe the most interesting whiskey of the day. I really liked it. It was matured purely in virgin oak casks and as a result had a massive oak flavor. Obviously this made it taste uncannily like Bourbon, but of course it was made purely from barley rather than a corn dominated mixture of corn, rye, wheat and barley. It was like a weird cross-over and was definitely a drink to completely change your perceptions of whiskey. I was so impressed by this one that it ended up being by far the most lasting influence of the whole session. I think I have had a similar whiskey before from Compass Box (or maybe I am thinking of one matured in used chardonnay casks), but in any event this one was a real stand out.

- Number four was an 18 year old Glenmoragie. It was very nice but didn’t leave an especially deep impression.

- Number five was another whose distillery I ended up not noting. I think it was called something like Bira Boonah. The whiskey was very strong (67% I think), very dark, and was heavily influenced by the cask. Despite the intense dark color this one was not at all cloying, perhaps partly because of the high alcohol.

This second class evolved into a pretty lively question and answer session, perhaps another reason why the last couple of whiskeys didn’t get quite the attention they might otherwise have done. Then was some discussion after the class, a little time to race around trying a couple more whiskeys before the show packed up, and then it was time to stagger home. To get more out of the tasting side of things it would probably be sensible to spit the whiskeys out rather than finishing every sample. You just can’t drink that much whiskey and stay focused. On the other hand it seems like a waste to pour the stuff away. I think there were a few spittoons scattered around. I didn’t see too many people using them though. More water stands for rinsing glasses might also have been good.

It was a good event and I’d definitely go again. Next time round it would be good to get hold of the program a little earlier and have more time to read through the material and plan what I really want to sample.

I arrived at Jiayuguan around midday and found a hotel. I took a walk around town, arranged a taxi for the following day, and had dropped into a Manchurian restaurant where I had Manchurian style dumplings and herb infused baijiu. I had been meaning to have beer but a drunk group of Chinese guys leaving the restaurant as I ordered persuaded me to try the baijiu, which was apparently made in Manchuria by relatives of the restaurant boss. It tasted a little more interesting than most baijiu, but was still very rough stuff. Being infused with herbs it was reddish rather than clear so maybe it no longer qualified as baijiu (白酒 – literally ‘white alcohol’). The fact that it was about 50% alcohol by volume and served hot made it especially hard going.

The Koreans invited me to join them for a drink. One of the central sleeper beds served as a table and we sat around it drinking baijiu and munching on raisins, peanuts, biscuits and other snacks. The Koreans were a group of teachers from the ‘Gandhi School’, an alternative education school in South Korea. They were scouting out the route for a school trip designed to expose the students to the diversity of cultures in East Asia. Since they were just scouting the route they had only spent a few hours in each of Wulumuqi and Turpan, and were only going to spend a couple of hours in Dunhuang before continuing to Golmud and then Tibet. When they returned with the students they would spend longer in each place. The full trip would start out in Vladivostok and finish in Tibet. It sounded interesting.

One of the group was a well known Korean travel writer and peace activist. Her travel books focused on places with political problems, and she had been to Iraq several times to protest during the lead up to the Gulf War and the early months of the war itself. She said she wanted to write a new type of travel book that went beyond simply giving information on sightseeing, accommodation, food and entertainment. She thought there was an interest in travel books that gave directions on how to make contact with foreign cultures and particular local people. The language barrier made it hard to get exactly what she meant, but it seemed an interesting idea.

We chatted a while about other things, including North Korea, the Iraq War, popular attitudes in China, and why successful revolutions always end in dictatorships. The travel writer finished by telling me I should write a book. People always seem to be saying that to me, so maybe I should.

It became difficult to talk after the bus started moving again, around midday, so we went back to our sleeper berths and alternately dozed or watched the desert scenery. Eventually we got to Dunhuang and I said goodbye to the Koreans and went off looking for a hotel. Considering the massive number of hotels in Dunhuang the driver seemed to have a hard time finding a suitable place. I guess he must have been taking a cut himself from the hotels he took me around. The first couple were bad quality and overpriced. The one I finally settled on was OK but a little overpriced given that there appeared to be a glut of accommodation in town and no tourists. I should have told the driver to get lost and dragged my bags round town myself but after a nearly 24 hours bus ride I just wanted to quickly find a place to dump my stuff and have a shower.

I had dinner at a Sichuanese restaurant. The food was average but the waitress was interesting. She was Mongolian from Inner Mongolia and on seeing me started talking to the rest of the staff about foreigners and how wonderful they were. Hearing her talk there seemed to be no area in which foreigners were not superior to Chinese. She praised me for going traveling alone, saying few Chinese would ever do such a thing. She talked about how foreigners knew how to enjoy their lives while Chinese only knew how to save money. She said foreigners exercised more than Chinese and were healthier. She said they danced better. She even told the other staff to say ‘waiguoren’ instead of ‘laowai’ when talking about foreigners, saying it was more respectful. I agree with her about the ‘laowai’ word, but wondered where she had picked this up. Most Chinese are insensitive to how ‘laowai’ sounds. I had a feeling she might have had a western boyfriend at some point, or at least had wanted one.

It was sad to hear some of what she had to say though. Apparently she had applied for a French visa but never saved the money to travel to France and eventually the visa expired. She wistfully talked about how she would travel the world for 2 years if she had US$400k. She obviously had no idea how much US$400k could buy. Of course you easily could spend US$400k traveling the world in two years, but you could just as easily travel for two years far more cheaply.

My ex-flatmate from Taiwan was on a business trip in Kunshan, so on Sunday morning I hopped on the train to Suzhou to pay him a visit and check out the crabs at the source. Rather than joining the huge ticket queue inside the station I found the little kiosk selling platform tickets and bought one of those for 1 RMB. Once you have a platform ticket you just need to find your train, jump on, and hope there will be a free seat. Eventually the conductor will find you and sell you a real ticket. If you are unlucky you can end up without a seat but for short distances it doesn’t really matter. Queuing in the station for half an hour to make sure you have a seat on a half hour train ride makes no sense.

After about half an hour or so I arrived in Kunshan and took a motorcycle taxi to my friend’s hotel. There were no ordinary taxis available. It is a little weird to be deposited of the back of an old motorcycle outside a hotel and then have liveried doormen open the door for you. It’s weird in a good way though.

I had a quick minibar beer with my friend (A-Guo). The cheerful cleaning lady who pointed me to the room had enthusiastically gushed that on such a clear day I’d be able to enjoy some fine views from the 20th floor. While A-Guo used the bathroom I stood at the window and took a couple of moments to appreciate the grey apartment blocks, grey sky, and grey canals of Kunshan. I was strangely reminded of Chinese ink landscapes on paper scrolls. A semi-demolished sports ground directly below provided a splash of color, though the debris strewn grass suggested a future more in keeping with its grey surrounds. As I surveyed the scene I thought back to the cleaning lady and had the sense that I was missing something. Perhaps you really need to be Chinese to get these things.

We headed downstairs and jumped in a taxi, a real one this time, out to Yang Chen lake to try the crabs. For some reason Yang Chen lake crabs (otherwise known as hairy crabs) are a famous delicacy in China. Personally I don’t rate them that highly. The flesh is sweeter than most crabs, but they are also smaller and more fiddly. I don’t think the flavor is special enough to justify the hassle and I’d just as soon eat a larger sea crab. I may be wrong but I also imagine that sea crabs live in cleaner water than the Yang Chen lake. Kunshan is a massive industrial area and while the lake is some distance from the factories you have to wonder how clean it is. I’ve heard rumors that the crab prices follow the movements of futures in heavy metals. Actually I made that rumor up myself just now, but I think it’s a fine one and worth repeating.

Near the edge of the lake you reach a big strip of crab restaurants. They all have unimaginative names like ‘Crab King’, ‘Golden Crab’ etc. As we walked along the strip I thought of my own name for a crab restaurant – 蟹谢你*.

The restaurants all back on to the lake, so you get to investigate the crab holding pens and choose your crabs before deciding where to eat. After wandering up and down the strip we selected a restaurant with healthy looking crabs.

The idea is that each diner eats both a male and a female crab. I can’t taste any big difference between the two, but the male is bigger than the female (or possibly it is the other way around). You dip the crab in sweet vinegar flavored with ginger, and accompany the meal with some warm Shaoxing wine. Shaoxing wine is a type of rice wine from the city of Shaoxing, located a few hours away. You can drink the wine straight, but people tend to infuse it with a little ginger and sour plum. We drank a ten year old bottle; it was decent but not exactly Lagavullin.
The lunch was good. I thought the simple and cheap chicken marinated in Shaoxing wine and sesame oil was tastier than the expensive and potentially radioactive crabs. The crabs were good though, and much cheaper out at the lake than they would have been in Shanghai.

By the time we finished lunch it was close to dusk so we just took a quick walk around the lake and headed back to Kunshan. We were going to take a bus back into town but a guy in a van picked us up at a discount to the standard taxi fare. Back in Kunshan we checked out a couple of little bars but found them extremely dead. A-Guo then decided we should go for KTV since his company was entertaining a group of local suppliers. KTV is not really my thing, especially KTV for business people, but once in a while it can be OK so off we went.

If you go to KTV with a group of friends you sit in a private room with a TV and sound system and sing songs. There generally is not a lot of drinking because everyone is having too much fun fighting over the mike to bother with finishing their drinks. If you are a foreigner people will expect you to sing the lamest songs from the English song list. You inevitably have a mike shoved in your face as The Carpenters’ Yesterday Once More starts up. Chinese people are socially and culturally clued up enough to realize that all foreigners love singing Yesterday Once More – “especially the part where he’s breaking her heart” and then there is that other good bit that goes “shing a ling a ling”.

KTV for business people is slightly different. You sit in the same private room but the group is normally male only, and each member of the group is supposed to have a hostess sit with them and chat. The hostesses make sure your party spends lots of money on alcohol by playing drinking games. If necessary the hostesses also help individual group members stay sober by drinking their share of the booze when they lose in the drinking games. The whole set up with the hostesses is thus a little weird. The hostesses will compete against the guy she is sitting with and challenge him to drinking games, but when her guy gets involved in a drinking game with another guy or another hostess, she will step in and help him out by drinking his share. So your hostess is highly dangerous but simultaneously your guardian angel. You could see this as a metaphor for all kinds of male-female relationships. Most of the hostesses will also come home with you at the end of the night if you want them to, though this varies according to the individual. Obviously there is singing as well, but since the hostesses are keeping everyone busy drinking nobody has much time to fight over the mike.

A-Guo and myself arrived later than everyone else, at about 9pm or so. KTV usually starts at around 7.30pm and the real aficionados get there very early to pick the best looking hostesses. We sat down, a group of about eight hostesses were sent in, and I let A-Guo send the first group away. Sending the first group away seems to be a bit of a ritual. The customers get to look discriminating and the shop gets to look like it has a ton of hostesses on hand. Basically everyone looks good. A second group came in and after A-guo picked one from that group I did the same.

A KTV joint usually aims to have more hostesses than there are customers on any given night. The hostesses pay a small stipend to come in to work each day. If they don’t get chosen then they not only don’t get paid but are out of pocket for the night. Provided they get regular business though the money is very good compared to what they would get elsewhere. Most of the girls are pretty but uneducated and would otherwise be working in a factory or a small shop earning maybe RMB1000-1500 per month. In KTV they can earn RMB200 a night simply to drink with customers, and maybe four to five times that if they go home with them. It is lucrative and easy work for the most attractive and personable. For the less naturally gifted a KTV can become a viciously competitive and unfair workplace. Obviously a lot of the girls end up hating each other, and after a few drinks you might get to listen to a convoluted tale about why Brilliant Jade from Anhui is a certifiable bitch.

The girl sitting with me, Yawen, was from some town I’d never heard of in Jiangsu. She had come to Kunshan to work in an electronics factory, left the factory to work in a small fashion boutique, and then left the boutique to work in a KTV and save money to open her own boutique. She was nice but had few topics of conversation besides money – natural enough when you are short of it, but boring nevertheless.

We played some drinking games, mainly 猜拳 (or ‘guess fists’), which involves two people simultaneously flashing their hands at each other and guessing the total number of fingers extended. The loser has to drink. I’m very bad at it because I never play, while Yawen was very good at it because she plays every single night. Naturally I ended up drinking a fair bit. Luckily the booze was mixed quite weak.

In KTV you usually drink Chinese wine, or 白酒(baijiu), which is a clear spirit. Baijiu is usually distilled from grain, typically sorghum, but can be made of almost anything. Baijiu is something like a very fragrant vodka, and not necessarily fragrant in a good way. The flavor profile is not always well balanced, and can include some bizarre esters. In KTV people often pour the baijiu into jugs packed with ice cubes, stir to chill it and let the ice melt a bit, and then decant it into small pouring jugs. I have no idea why this has become the practice in KTVs and nightclubs, and I never noticed people drinking baijiu this way in restaurants. I think the custom is a vague take on the cocktail (sometimes they add lemon wedges, wasabi nuts, tea or other flavorings), and has taken off in KTVs, bars and nightclubs because they are seen as ‘westernized’, and hence appropriate locations for a mixed drink. In contrast, restaurants are seen as more traditional and Chinese venues. Thus in restaurants people drink baijiu straight, possibly warming the bottle in a bowl of water during the winter.

Later we played a very dangerous dice game with hazy rules in which the loser was going to have to drink a largish jug of baijiu. I was within one dice throw of being the fall guy but saved myself with a triple six on my last throw. I think a double six would have been enough to save me, but regardless everyone was very impressed. My hostess asked for my phone number after seeing my dice throwing skills. Seeing the number of sixes people were throwing though I had to wonder whether or not the dice were weighted. I’m sure they were, and I guess all the sixes makes the evening exciting.

The group I was with was mixed Taiwanese and Mainland Chinese. Overall the Taiwanese were reasonably restrained with the hostesses, while the mainlanders were getting involved in some heavy duty groping and pawing. One of the Mainland guys came over to my side of the room and challenged me to drink. I joined him in a glass. As I put my glass down he grabbed my hand and sort of forced it onto my hostess’s tit. Needless to say she absolutely loved this. I’m not sure what he was thinking. Maybe he had seen lots of western porn movies and expected more enthusiasm from me? I apologized to the hostess while continuing to drink with the guy. He calmed down a little but then began asking for my number, saying we would go out together in Shanghai and he would pay for everything (“何先生! 我埋单. 我埋单…”). I gave him the number hoping he would go away. He was plastered and drinking far too fast. I drank a glass or two more with him, then let my hostess keep him company for another glass or so. He just wouldn’t stop drinking though.

I decided to pop off to the toilet, partly because I needed to take a pee and partly in an attempt to lose this idiot. I didn’t bank on him jumping up and following me into the toilet. So I unexpectedly found myself in the toilet with a drunken moron. He was grabbing me by the shoulder still talking about how we would go drinking together in Shanghai and he would pay for everything, while checking and rechecking that my phone number was correct.

This was all getting very tiresome, but more disconcertingly I was wondering what the hell he was doing in the toilet with me. A room in an upscale KTV joint usually has its own toilet, accessed through a door inside the room. This means that you don’t need to go out into the external corridor to get to a toilet, and also that everyone in your group knows who is in the toilet and for how long. Besides being annoying the situation was thus getting embarrassing. First I act less than enthusiastic about groping a strange woman’s tit, then seconds later I disappear into the toilet with another man. If I didn’t get him out of the toilet fast everyone was going to assume we were enjoying a booze fueled quickie. Now some people can probably adopt a relaxed attitude to all of this, maybe thinking “So we had knocked back a few drinks and were feeling pretty loose. Hell, who hasn’t had a homosexual experience?” I admire this attitude. Admiration is precisely where I draw the line though, and at the end of the day I leave this attitude to others.

I needed to get him out of the toilet and fast. I tried vainly to end the conversation. It didn’t matter that I called his mobile to demonstrate that the number I had given him was in fact correct, he simply refused to shut up and leave the toilet, and kept grabbing my arm and talking about going drinking. So what did he want? Was he in fact gay? There was only one way to find out. Groping for some clarity I reached into my pants.

He fled.

Ahh! A heterosexual!

I heaved a sigh of relief and used the facilities in peace.

When I walked back out he was no longer sitting beside my seat and had moved back to the other side of the room. The unsophisticated approach to resolving awkward social encounters is underrated.

The rest of the evening was uneventful enough. At around midnight the hostesses all disappeared, changed out of their uniforms, and returned in normal clothes, giving the signal that it was time to go. We paid up and left, some alone and some with their ‘girlfriends’. To keep the crab theme going we went to a restaurant for crab flavored rice porridge.

The crab porridge restaurant was Taiwanese style and it was interesting to see that most of the KTV girls, who came from all over China (Sichuan, Dongbei, Shanxi, etc.), knew how to make Taiwanese style tea (otherwise known as Minnan style tea). There was a tea set sitting on the table and they immediately got to work with it. The Minnan style of tea-drinking is very specific and forms the basis for the Japanese tea ceremony. Minnan style tea is very potent and served in tiny cups, making it like the tea equivalent of espresso. The etiquette for brewing the tea is fairly relaxed, unlike the complicated Japanese tea ceremony, but making tea this way is still not something that most young Chinese women can do. Outside of Taiwan, Fujian, and parts of Guangdong, where everyone makes tea this way, Minnan tea drinking is more a hobby for a few retirees. Obviously the KTV had lots of Taiwanese customers, which with Kunshan being full of Taiwanese was no surprise.

After the crab porridge I found a taxi and headed back to Shanghai, finally getting home around 4am or so after the driver got lost crossing Shanghai. For some reason the driver spoke Mandarin with me and Kunshan dialect with everyone he stopped to ask directions from in Shanghai. The problem was that nobody in Shanghai could understand anything he said in Kunshan dialect and I ended up ‘translating’ for him. He spoke perfectly fine Mandarin, but his dialect was different enough from Shanghainese to make him unintelligible to the locals.

* ‘Crab’ in Mandarin is pronunced ‘xie’ in a rising tone, while ‘thank you’ is pronounced ‘xie’ in a falling tone. So ‘蟹谢你‘ would mean either ‘the crab thanks you’, or maybe ‘thank you crab’, but would sound very similar to a simple ‘thank you’ (谢谢你). It is a little laborious to explain but kind of clever.