Beijing is hot. Very hot.

Courtesy of Jetlag I didn't get to sleep for ageeeees last night, so didn't wake up until 11. Leo has a slight fever so he didn't go to kindergarten. I went and grabbed some bread and jam, purchased specially last night, however when I asked for a knife they gave me a small fish knife.... This funnily enough made cutting a challenge. Leo was fascinated by butter, so he had a little bit. The grandad offered me some bean porridge stuff (congee) which I have tried before but I still don't like it. It takes me back to rice pudding at school - ew. We then watched the croods in Chinese, which is much improved by the lack of Nicholas Cage.

When Leo went for a nap Helen and I went to Police station. I stepped outside and OH MY GOD,  it was crazy hot today, like the weather was trying to smother me with a pillow it had just heated up in the microwave. As it's Friday we couldn't drive, in Beijing the last digit on your number plate determines which day you aren't allowed to drive. Cars that end in 1&6 can't drive on Mondays, 2&7 on Tuesdays etc. this rota lasts for 3 months then the days change. Anyways we made it through the soup that was the outdoors - by the way this was around 1:30, who goes outside during the hottest part of the day!?!?! - and reached the police station. It was loud in there, super loud. It appears that the Chinese view queuing in the same way as rules of the road, something that is more of a guideline than a rule. People were shouting at the officers behind the desks, even if they were dealing with someone else, which led to the original client shouting over the intruder. Then the officers would be shouting across the room to each other. I was stuck between the oppressive heat of outside and the wall of noise that assaulted my ears. Helen registered me with impressive speed, she is pretty adept at dealing with the system.

After this we stepped back out into the sauna, and headed to the bus stop. The bus... Now this is something I was pretty concerned about, I had visions of being a sardine, but in 37*C heat. It wasn't too bad, apart from having to run for it whilst the man with the glad shouted at us-some things never chane. I had a seat and it was air conditioned. Also it is amazingly cheap, 4p to go as far as you want!!! Helen was saying that the subway was more expensive, but do you want to know how much that is? If you live in London you aren't going to like the answer, 20p to go as far as you want again! Crazy.

We were headed to the Book Building (yes, building) 3 floors of books. All we bought was a map for me, it's pretty handy. We looked around for a while and I saw this beautiful red leather book with gold lettering. It's called 'An appreciation of Chinese tax stamps', a pretty fascinating read if you ask me, so I might have to pick it up before I go home.

To be honest I'm meant to be here teaching Leo English, but I'm teaching Helen more. We exchange various words with the help of her handy iPhone app. When we got back I went and practiced the new characters I learnt.

Around 7 we went for dinner. Now you may be envisaging some Chinese restaurant specialising in Dim Sum, or maybe Peking duck. Don't. We went to Pizza Hut... I hate Pizza Hut, I actively avoid it, and will genuinely go anywhere else. However they asked if I like pizza, I said yes, and it really would have been too complicated to explain my moral stand against Pizza Hut with our Chinglish. So we went and met the dad there, and then queued for half an hour to get in, for Pizza Hut! Then it came to ordering and we had a massive selection spag Bol, pizza (with cheese stuffed crust), some kind of baked risotto (with melted cheese on top), calamari, and cheese croquettes. Yum! As I'd said I like pizza, I couldn't start to explain how I hate cheese, most people don't understand this when I explain it in a mutual language let alone our bastardised Chinglish. So I politely powered through, and I can tell you it's up there with being forced to eat Cheese pie in school as a kid, not great. You may be thinking that this meal could not in any possible way get worse, but it does. So whilst I was struggling through this cheese mountain, and the mum was saying that she didn't think I ate enough in Chinese no less -no one has ever said this about me, ever, in any language, but they snack worse than a student pulling an all nighter, so...- Leo throws up on his plate. Literally just sits there throws up, then carries on talking. I'm all like WHAT JUST HAPPENED, and I feel sick enough eating this without having to actually view vomit - this is all in my head. The dad calls the waitress over. Incidentally the way they call waitresses over is brilliant, they literally just shout 'fuyuan' (waitress) across the restaurant. He jabbers in Chinese and points to the plate. The waitress goes away, comes back with a clean plate and Leo carries on eating. The sick plate remains on the table. I was just shocked, genuinely completed shocked. I mean really we're going to carry on eating, with sick on the table, no ones going to move it? No? Ok then.

Question of the day is quite spectacular, during dinner, before sickgate, they asked me why spaghetti - which they pronounced psgetti- translates directly as Italian noodles. Wow. I then explained that pasta is an Italian dish, and even though it comes in all shapes and size spaghetti looks like noodles. I carried on to say that Pizza Hut is an American restaurant but all the food, the pizza, pasta, risotto is Italian. They continued the conversation by asking if we ate rice in England. I pointed out that we do , not only in the Chinese style but in Italian, Indian, Vietnamese, and Korean cuisine as well. This was pretty shocking to them. They must think that we subsist off of burgers and pizza. 

Anyways, I'll find dumplings on Monday when I have some free time. Can't wait!