My friends and I met up, going to dinner and settling on McDonalds (Xi’an is very westernized). Since the beginning of the trip, my digestive system has had trouble keeping up with the Chinese food. It’s kind of amazing, that in America, McDonalds upsets my stomach, whereas in China I was using it to settle my stomach.
Apparently McDonalds can run out of fries, or at least in China, because we were served curly fries instead. The curly fries looked weird next to my double cheeseburger. I literally jumped in my seat when I noticed that my soda had ice in it. Nothing ever has ice in China (the water is so gross that you have to boil the water before you can freeze it). You are taught not to trust ice water in China.
After dinner, my friends and I walked around the streets and then went into an upscale mall where everything was at least 100 American dollars. We realized that no matter where—Hong Kong, Beijing, Xi’an—every mall we’ve been to in China has looks the same (aka same layout).
We met up with some other friends afterwards and kept them company while they ate KFC. The portion sizes were miniscule in comparison to America’s.
We left the restaurant and headed back to the hotel. That night people were going out to a Chinese club called “Fantasy.” (Chinese naming things in English often results with a chuckle).
I went to a fellow TBC student’s hotel room and drank a very diluted beer. Don’t expect to feel anything from Chinese beer, one bottle is typically 2-3% alcohol. You have to rely on Baizhou to do the trick, which is about as nasty as it is cheap. (Very cheap)
But effective. We left for the club within the hour. I don’t like to drink too much—I figure being in a foreign culture and being a short white girl, it is better to keep my wits about me.
When we arrived, there were maybe two people on the relatively small dance floor. The dance floor was all the way in the back, mostly the club had tables for drinks and conversation. Some of the students started dancing around the tables, and the fuwuyuans tried to move us over to the dancing area. Some students started dancing on the tables, and the fuwuyuans really didn’t like that.
Within half an hour, the dance floor was packed. I think our foreign craziness had infected the Chinese. The DJ played all American songs, so I sang along to Lady Gaga as I danced around Americans and Chinese alike. Some Chinese people dancing near me asked me where we were from. I said America, which solicited some laughs. Crazy Americans.
My friend was really surprised when he found out that he had his knife on him. We had passed a security check-in on the way in, and he had a pocketknife on him without realizing. But it wasn’t found or taken away from him. It seems that these clubs are a little too lenient when it comes to Westerners. (The American wearing flip flops was turned away though for being underdressed…I admit I don’t entirely understand the policy of knives but no flip flops).
We were pretty much done by 1am. I guess that happens when you start at 9pm. I went to a very welcome bed, overwhelmed by my first foreigners-invading-a-Chinese-club experience.
