The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!

...actually, it turns out that they're not Russian. You can tell by their faces when Dr. Wang calls them "Elusuo" (Russian), and the interpreter interprets. They go all scrunchy, just like when you tell a Southerner that you have friends from Baltimore. "That ain't thuh Real South®," they tell you. "我们不是..." (Women bu shi, "We aren't....") these Not-Russians start, and then they get lost, so they say something to their interpreter, who talks too fast for me to follow, and Dr. Wang nods and promptly decides to forget it.

Meanwhile, back to the Not-Russians -- three women, two of whom look like they might have competed in the 1980 Olympic Games in the shot put (and never even walked around the block since), and two men, one of whom looks like Vladimir Putin's chubby cousin; the other one looks like the Moose's twisted love child with the Michelin Man, only not so good looking. They're exactly the stereotype -- of the Ugly American®. I can't count the number of times they've stepped in front of me. They've offended the Chinese (remember, the folks who apparently don't have any issues about privacy?) with taking pictures and video without asking. They don't have Dr. Wang's respect because they don't know the basics of Chinese Medicine.

Today, they asked what a patient's disease was. For the third time! They've only been here four days! And the patient has Bell palsy! It's not as if the answer is written on the patient's face! Oh, wait.... Yes! It is!

Okay, taking a moment to calm down so I don't wind up with a stroke myself.

Better. Anyway, I'm just irritated that there are so many of them in an already-crowded clinic. And it's been hot. With so many people in the room, it heats up like a sauna; between that and the aggressive rudeness, it totally saps your energy. It's been pretty warm outside, too; "late summer" indeed, even though it's well into autumn by the calendar. When you see the locals in shirtsleeves, you know it's hot.

I haven't mentioned this yet, but there's one thing -- besides my bad Chinese and the Not-Russian incursion -- that's almost intolerable, and that's the fact that the ward sits directly across the hall from the restroom. That's not such a big deal until about 10:30 or 11:00 in the morning, when it starts to smell. Today was perhaps the most entertaining example: too hot in the clinic, reeking of urine just outside the door, and five meters either way down the corridor you could hardly breathe for the cigarette smoke.

But really? I love it here. Not enough to make Tianjin my home, that's for sure... but enough to come back, even with the smells and rude foreigners and the allegedly-provincial nature of the city. And as my 中文 improves, things get easier and easier. It's nice to get compliments on my efforts at speaking Chinese; the surprised pleasure makes all my frustration worth it.

Last night, a friend and I went to a Sichuan restaurant in the city center. We had... let's see. There were bamboo shoots in spicy sauce, a noodle dish, eels braised with carrots and celery and lots of spices... and at least one or two other things that I can't remember at this moment. It was very good -- and not the fanciest place in the world, either. Just the equivalent of an Olive Garden or something like that. And the cost? 70元, a little more than ten bucks. For both of us. Since she'd picked up lunch the previous couple of days, I paid.

Later, she decided she'd teach me some 天津话 (Tianjinhua, the local dialect). So far, it's been one word, which I can't reproduce properly but means "interesting". We'll see how that goes... I'm sure it will be 有意思 (youyisi, "interesting").