A Fat Purple Fig

It is our first day at uni. China University of Mining and Technology (CUMT) is one of China’s national key universities, which means it receives special government support for its research and teaching excellence. It is the country’s leading institution for mining, energy, and earth sciences, though its programs also span engineering, management, and the humanities. Of its 40,000 students, almost all live on campus.

We are draped with large security passes, made with photos from our passports, and blue CUMT tote bags. Our hotel is within easy walking distance. The road crossings never feel straightforward, but the give-take style of inhabiting the roads here, between cars, scooters, and pedestrians, always seems to work out in the end.

There is cohesion in the commotion.

I level up on Hànzì recognition, with a whopping 4/6 at the university gates.

中国矿业大学
中国 (Zhōngguó) = China (middle country)
矿业 (Kuàngyè) = mining industry (mine industry)
大学 (Dàxué) = university (big study)

I notice the Hànzì for 国 (country) looks like it has a 五 (five) inside.

Close, but no cigar.

The campus is picturesque. ‘In Spring, the water is covered in lotus flowers,’ Shan Lǎoshī tells me.

Xuéshēng walk by and say, ‘Hel-lo‘.

I join the HSK1 group for our lesson. If only I were doing the level one exam.

Curse the stupid challenges I set for myself.

笨蛋 (bèn dàn) – fool (stupid egg)

The spoken words just seem to hit my shell and fall away. Nothing sticks. My best-developed skill is ‘Quizzical Expression’. To be fair, we have little free time, and mine tends to be spent writing. I have questioned whether this is a sensible choice, given that language learning is the point, but it’s how I wrap my turmoil into a neat, daily package.

Besides, I assure myself that my newly-developed affection for Hànzì has sufficiently met the trip’s outcomes. In Australia, I held them at bay.

Who knew?

Du Lǎoshī teaches us the radical for water. Seeing these three drops – 氵- in a character indicates it has something to do with water.

河 (hé) = river
海 (hǎi) = sea
江 (jiāng) = river

I like the radicals. There are 214 of them, called 部首 (bùshǒu), and they can appear anywhere in the character. It’s like finding a map during a treasure hunt gone awry. Consider these:

江 (jiāng) = river
紅 (hóng) = red

One has the radical for water, and the other for silk/thread.

Little hints to help you on your way.

Du Lǎoshī also shows us how Hànzì characters have developed, over time. The original character for ‘tears’ literally looked like an eye, before losing its curves. You can still see the eye, somehow, in its contemporary, squared-off edges.

泪 (lèi) = tears (water eye)

For lunch, we are joined by a trio of university staff, led by the Director of the CUMT International Office, Chen Wen. The food is sublime. When complimented on the Dōngpō Ròu, Director Chen shares its origin story.

Legend has it that poet and scholar Sū Dōngpō became so distracted by a game of chess, he forgot about a pot of pork braising on the stove. The result? Tender, aromatic pork belly goodness.

Ugh. I am not a fan of being in the foreground. I look like a shí shī.

Director reads us one of Sū Dōngpō’s poems, as Shan Lǎoshī translates. Later, I read a handful of his 2,700 poems.

酒 醒 梦 断 四 十 秋。
‘Like sobering up from a wine dream, forty autumns have passed.’

We toast with Coke and Sprite in wine glasses.

干杯 (gān bēi) = cheers (dry cup)

We visit the university library and museum. Both are stately, imposing buildings. A concrete sentinel stands outside the museum, holding a flame aloft.

Isn’t he fabulous?

The museum contains a wealth of information about the university’s history, all of which reflects its significant prestige.

We see antique cameras, volcanoes, dinosaurs, rocks, technological wizardry.

恐龙 (kǒnglóng) = dinosaur (fear dragon)

I see a water radical, in the wild! Exciting.

消火栓 (xiāo huǒ shuān) = fire hydrant (to disappear, fire, stopper)

I question the water radical in 消 (to disappear), only to discover it is connected to water through the metaphor of dissolving or melting.

It is around 3pm each day that I begin to dissolve, perhaps tied to teaching days, where 3pm marks the end of wrangling. Here, I tell myself it’s physical (holding out for freestanding toilets as long as I do isn’t without repercussions), but it isn’t really about a sore back and aching feet.

Each morning, it is as though I have been reassembled.

We traipse through the rain, canteen bound, to spend our dinner vouchers. The canteen is vast and the choices are endless. My Mandarin words are filed in an inefficient system.

I am suddenly overwhelmed.

泪

I hot foot it out of there, with Conor in tow. We grapple with the combination of phone maps and rainfall, avoiding the fat drops that fall from the branches.

水 (shuǐ) = water

It flowed right through the day.