Finding Breakfast

Due to jet lag, I am up early.  I showered well before six.  I need water— what comes from the tap is not safe to drink, and the electric pot provided for boiling water does not work.  At the hotel desk, I use my minimal Chinese to ask about breakfast: “Zaofan za nail?”

None of the clerks understand me because I don’t get the tones right. I have to resort to finding the phrase in my Lonely Planet guidebook and pointing.  One of the clerks responds that there is a restaurant on floor san (number 3) of an adjoining building. I walk over, noticing trees bearing lichee nuts and what I take to be Chinese clover.

 But this is vacation time, and the restaurant is closed. So is the campus convenience store.  A passerby holds an envelope professors here use for grades, and I think she may be a teacher. Her English is as extensive as my Chinese, but we communicate.

She says I can go to a dining hall on the campus, but I must have a meal card, which I do not.  I’m carrying Chinese money, and it is worth a try.  A young man who speaks just a bit of English says I can wait for an hour to see if the cafeteria manager will accept my money.  He is carrying three bottles of water and I offer him two yuan if he’ll sell me one.  He is embarrassed and gives it to me for one. 

There ensues a lively interchange between the young man, another student, and cafeteria personnel. I gather they are discussing whether anyone on the premises has the authority to accept a cash purchase. A cafeteria worker, a middle aged woman, seems to be volunteering, and guides me to the a counter where I select a hard boiled egg and a piece of warm bread topped with pepper and sesame seed.

The cost is four yuen—about sixty cents. I pick up the bag with my breakfast and thank the woman profusely. I eat outside in  a campus garden.