Chinese Optometry and Dinner Games: a double post

Yes, I know that I have long promised a wrap-up of my countryside journey, but it has yet to congeal into something digestible. But, the adventures continue within the capital city, Beijing!

The rumors are true.

I lost my glasses.

I allowed my friends to convince me to leave my glasses in my shirt pocket as I hit the bars with my pals. Apparently, my gorgeous face is just too pretty to cover up behind lenses.

As is likely to happen, my dancing reached a boiling point during which my glasses seem to have evaporated straight out of my pocket. If you have ever seen me dance, you probably know the moment of which I speak. If you have not seen me dance, your imagination is probably not far from reality.

So, after a few days of wandering around Beijing blind and constantly noting how attractive people have become, it was time to get a new pair of glasses. I sought the translating expertise of my coworker and friend, Grace.

Ever diligent, Grace pinpointed a glasses store within a reasonable distance, and we met at an appointed time. Determined, we set off in search of my eyes’ destinies. On the bus, it was agreed that contacts would be a move in a good direction for my face. And, I worked up enough courage to trust a Chinese optometrist.

The optometrist was a curt woman with an array of exciting machinery. First she showed me to a large box with a very small picture of a barn. From her end of the box, she was left with the unfortunate task of gazing at the wisdom of my soul through my ever-expressive eyes. I lucked out with that barn. After some discussion, it became clear that my eyes were the wrong shape. And my astigmatism offered a particular obstacle. It seems that Chinese people have flatter eyes than I do. My eyeballs are apparently huge and too aerodynamic. Also, there was no machinery for determining the location of my astigmatism. The decision was made to wear glasses, instead.

We moved on to the question and answer section of the eye exam. I lucked out because I only had to assess the direction faced by a series of letters, “E”. It was decided that I should point out the direction, since this is still my primary mode of communication. As a series of lenses were placed in front of my eyes, the good doctor rapped a stick upon the various “E’s” she wanted me to analyze. Sometimes she would cover one of my eyes with that familiar spoon. It made me oddly comfortable to see the same eye-covering spoons used in the US for precision optometry.

After a number of lenses and repeated of the phrase, “zhege hao” (This good?), it became clear that I did not know what I was doing. I ran that poor optometrist in circles as she asked about what were possibly the same three lenses. To return the favor, she would periodically ask me to take a walk around the store with the various sets of lenses strapped to my face. Grace assured me that this was part of the process in China, and not a cool-down period for the poor doctor. So, I would wander around the store looking for English letters to assess my vision. This was made particularly difficult due to misspellings like, “new glasese”.

Ultimately, Grace shared the wisdom with me that made all the difference. In China, they do not want your vision to be too good because it will make your eyes tired...

Alas! We had been shooting for mediocre the whole time. And, I had been foolishly been asking for the vision of a fighter pilot, or a waiter, or some one who knows what’s happening twenty feet away.

As the headache of the constantly changing lenses set in, I became passive and began to see the doctor’s point of view. Perhaps I do not need to see too well. Perhaps my eyeballs are the wrong shape to live on this side of the world. Perhaps I will never be able to determine the difference between a very small “E” and three lines that are just hanging out together. Ultimately, she suggested I buy the glasses there or go to the hospital. Unsure if that was a threat, I conceded and bought some glasses. (Actually, the Chinese go to the hospital for even the smallest colds. I'm just still affronted by the idea of going to a hospital without bleeding.)

Then, we needed to eat. The eyeglass store shared the second floor of the building with Big Pizza, a Chinese Pizza Hut rip-off. We walked over to the second floor host stand to request a table. The host told us we needed to go downstairs to pay first. We walked to the downstairs hostess stand. The hostess told us that we needed to go to the upstairs host stand. We returned upstairs to stare that host in the face. As he started to send us back downstairs, the hostess appeared and told him to seat us.

After the round this quick warm up, I asked Grace if there were anymore Big Pizza games to play, and she assumed not. Little did we know that the games had only begun. (I am left to assume that the staff’s various games were part of preparations for the Olympic Games in Beijing in August.) Following the host’s gesture, we walked into the restaurant and found a table. It turned out to be out of bounds, and the host explained that we must sit in a separate section of the restaurant, away from the buffet, which we had not purchased. So, we rushed to a marginal section of the restaurant. Grace was in the lead.

Our waitress came to take our order and offered us their wide selection of three different drinks, including Pepsi Cola and milk tea. We chose milk tea. Fifteen minutes later, she reappeared with a large bottle of Pepsi and two mugs. I pondered the similarities between this brand of milk tea and the Pepsi I knew from home. The waitress reappear five minutes later and spontaneously exchanged the Pepsi for two mugs of milk tea. I pulled ahead.

Before the food arrived, the waitress asked for payment. I offered to pay, since Grace is one of the few Chinese people in whose presence I am allowed to make purchases. I handed the waitress something other than exact change, while deftly hiding the true contents of my wallet. Having not been able to arc her neck enough to determine if I had smaller bills, she gave in and brought me my change. Given the intense pressure that waitresses and cashiers put on customers in China to use exact change, this was a huge victory. My lead was locked into place.

I then took advantage of people’s lack of English comprehension and grasp of the American tradition of sarcasm to roast the restaurant with my acerbic wit. Grace conceded the win, and after demolishing our nearly palm-sized pizza, we took our places on the winner’s stand before exiting the restaurant. We both agreed to come back as soon as possible to try our luck in the steeple chase.