PhD

Dave had sat in front of his computer for hours, bashing away at the various buttons. He was a man on a mission.

He had been given a program to work with that he had never even heard of before. "R". What kind of name was "R"? It could apparently do all kinds of fancy graphs and complex equations. Apparently.

Learning a computer program from scratch, when your supervisor admitted he didn't know how it worked, was not as easy as it sounded.

"Ah ha! I've got it!" Dave announced excitedly to his empty crisp packet.

Finally he was on his way and just a half hour later he had produced The Graph.

It was beautiful. It curled in and out of itself in a somewhat DNA manner, elegant and graceful. It was the result of hours of work and it was perfect in every possible way. Except one.

"Huh, was suppose to be a straight line..."

Back to the drawing board.

Guin Guin

Time is a fickle little thing, sometimes an hour can last an eternity, sometimes two months can go in the blink of an eye.

Dave had mixed emotions about the return to the UK. He missed his family, his friends, his house and most of all the ability to know what the heck people round him were saying. He was looking forward to starting his PhD and getting on with life. He was happy to go back.

Yet he was most certainly not happy to leave. Jean's parents had took him in and made him their own. He felt very much part of the family. It was strange how close you can feel to people you can't talk to. Verbal comunication had been slow at the best of times, but that lacked importance. He would miss them.

Dave and Jean boarded the train and waved goodbye.

"Guin, guin," said Dave, doing remarkably well to keep his cool, "Guin!"

Ma ma had told him to say 'guin'. It was almost the equivalent of 'Bog off', designed to keep things light and prevent tears.

It didn't go according to plan. The inevitable emotional outbursts from both Jean and her Ma ma came right on cue. Dave did his best to not look too girly himself.

"Guin," he said as the train started to move.

"Guin."

Service with a Smile.

At first glance a Chinese Bar looked very much like the bars back in England. People sat around drinking and talking and listening to the music playing. But first impressions can be wrong.

It all started going strange when Dave ordered his first drink. "I'll have a JD and Coke." Jean translated imediately and received a look of total confusement.

Jean continued talking and the other people round the table joined in, including our guest of honour who pretty much owned the place. The waiter finally surrended and went to fetch like a good little puppy.

"Apparently they don't do whiskey and coke. If you want whiskey your suppose to buy it by the bottle. But they've agreed to make one esspecially for you, only they've never made one before so they're not to sure about it."

Dave's jaw dropped a cm or two.

"By the bottle?"

The drink's arrived and started dissappearing down various throats. Conversation went from one thing Dave didn't understand to another.

"See that guy with that girl over there?" said Jean suddenly, "She's a hooker."

"What? How do you know?"

"Oh, all those girls round there are. The guys have to pay to talk to them. Then the girls get a bonus from the bar if they get the guys to drink certain drinks. After that, they can agree a price and go away together."

Dave's jaw dropped a little further.

"What kind of place is this?!?!?"

The drink had headed south inside Dave and he found himself in need of the restroom. He excused himself and off he went.

The toilet seemed nice. There was a man by the sinks with a towel, he would obviously expect money for drying Dave's hands later. Shame Dave didn't have any money. Oh well, he walked past him and went to the urinal.

Standing there, mid-flow, minding his own business, suddenly a hot towel wrapped around his neck, followed quickly by a pair of hands started to massage.

Dave's jaw hit the floor.

He pushed the hands away and finished up as quick as he could. It was the towel man. He was expecting money? Dave felt more like calling the police than giving spare change.

Returning to his sit, he decided not to drink any more. There was no way he would use the toilet again. He sat there, wondering who on Earth would pay for that?

Just then a rather loud man with a heavy American accent sat at the next table.

'Ah, that's who.'

Mr No.1

Dave was excited. This was like going to Disneyland, only better.

"So what kind of Pandas will we see?"

"Oh, all kinds, male and female and baby ones and pregnant ones, lots of Pandas," said Jean with a smile. Was she out with her husband or her little child, she wasn't sure.

"Wow. Real Pandas. Cool."

The car pulled in and the small group got out. There it was, on the top of the little hill. Panda Paradise. 'Cool'.

After the short walk, they had arrived. "So, where are they?" Dave said like an impatient three year old.

"Here he is."

'He? hmmm.... How can male, female, baby and pregnant Pandas all be covered by the word 'he'?'

"There's only one? Where are the others?"

Jean spoke quickly with the lady working there. "Apparently they've all been moved somewhere nicer, because the weather is too hot."

"Oh. So there's only one?"

"Yes."

Well, one was still more than none and Dave rushed over to the cage. He was big and fat and hairy and he just lay there and did nothing. He was so like Dave it was scary.

"He's so cute. What's his name?" asked Dave, "Aww, look at his little belly."

Jean once again spoke to the lady working there.

"Apparently his name is 'Panda No. 1'."

"Wow, cool name. Hello Mr No. 1, sorry, I mean Ni Hao, I don't think he'll speak English."

Mr No.1 rolled over and made himself more comfy. Dave could only assume this was a return greeting. He was so cool. A REAL Panda. Cool.

Happy Days.

"Chi, chi!"

"So what are we doing tonight?" Dave asked, sticking to his faithful routine. Jean always seemed to think he knew what was happening when people made plans and thus always forgot to fill him in. 'I sooo wish I knew Chinese'

"Oh, were going to a meal."

Why Dave asked he wasn't sure, 9 times out of 10 the answer was going to a meal. The other 1 time out of 10 it was just a snack. He was currently a stone heavier than previously and gaining.

"Cool."

The meal was enormous, as always, filled with wonderful foods. The conversation, however, flew right over Dave's head.

"What are we talking about?" he asked for the hundreth time.

"Oh nothing," came the familar reply.

"Chi, chi!" came Mama's command. ("Eat, eat!") Dave wondered to himself if maybe he was being fattened up for some sacrificial meal at a latter date. Maybe.

Suddenly all eyes were on him. Mama was pointing to her nose. "Zhe shi sheng ma?"

Oh no, here it was. It was Dave's time to shine. A PhD student surrounded by some of China's rich and famous and he was reduced to telling people he knew "Bi zi" meant "nose". The worst part though, was that he was almost certainly getting them all wrong.

Putting from part to part on his face, Dave said the equivalent of , "Nuse, EE, Air...." 'Ah Crap, I always forget what Mouth is.' Everyone laughed. Since Dave wasn't trying to be funny, this removed the possiblity of laughin WITH him, leaving only AT. Still, at least he was making them happy.

"Zhe shi sheng ma?" said Mama again, putting at her hair. This was her favorite one, and Dave wouldn't dissapoint.

"Mao."

Everyone laughed, 'Mao' meaning 'fur' not 'hair' and thus proving Dave was indeed a Monkey, with fur on his head. The amusing part for Dave was when occasionally some people took it rather seriously and accused Jean of teaching him wrong. Of cause, Dave would have loved to help her out, but when one does not speak the language how can one?

Well, back to the food.

"Hao chi!"

...My Turn?

Dave clung to his seat for dear life as they twirled round another corner. The roads, bearly wide enough for one car, had traffic going both ways and it got worse. They were driving through country roads, trees and hills blocking any visibilty and the smallest slip up would send them tumbling to an explosive grave in the valleys below.

Suddenly the car stopped.

"Right," said Jean, "It's your turn."

"... My Turn?"

"Yes, your turn. To drive."

'Oh, to drive, oh ok.' Dave had had a total of around 2hrs previous driving experience, which basically meant he now knew how to start a car... almost. This shouldn't be too much of a problem.

Dave sat down, took hold of the wheel, put his seat belt on, stared at the road and began to prayer silently to himself. The instructor said something, of cause not knowing any Chinese dave didn't understand a word of it.

"Just relax," smiled Jean from the backseat, "He'll make sure nothing happens, he has an extra break."

'Just relax. Good advice. Better to die relaxing. Off we go.' The car began to move, then shuddered and stopped again violently.

"What? What did i do?"

The instructor barked out something else, probably , "Oh crap, were all going to die!" Even the car didn't want Dave to drive. He tried again. Finally they were away.

The instructor shouted.

"Jean? What's he saying?" screached Dave, already drenching in a cold sweat.

"Oh, sorry, he said change gear."

"Jean. You REALLY need to translate quicker than that."

"OK, sorry. Your doing fine. Just relax."

'Relax. Gonna die. Relax. Gonna die. Relax....'

Driving is fun.