A poem for Friday night – by Rob Schackne

She sits down too close to me

and orders a bottle of red wine

already loaded fast busting up

with her boyfriend on the phone

I found this gem of a poster stuck on the back wall of the grimy kitchen in my new apartment in Daqing, Heilongjiang. It's titled 20个不能混吃的食物 (bùnénghùnchīdeshíwù) or "20 Food Combinations to Avoid", and seems to be the paper from a now-closed Harbin restaurant food tray. My favourites are number 5: rabbit meat + celery = lose your hair (兔肉 tùròu＋芹菜 qíncài＝脱发 tuōfà); number 10: crab + persimmon = diarrhoea (蟹 xiè＋柿子 shìzi＝腹泻 fùxiè); and number 16: tofu + honey = deafness (豆腐 dòufu＋蜂蜜 fēngmì＝耳聋 ěrlóng).

In search of a happy ending

THIS SHORT STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED ON ISHAM COOK’S BLOG

Back to Fengtai in Beijing. I finally come across a new prospect, a zhongyi clinic, the characters standing for traditional Chinese massage, a type of massage I don’t like. Done over the clothes with rough pinching, pushing and pounding, it has to be the most unsensual massage ever invented.

Setting out to visit every massage parlour in China

THIS SHORT STORY ORIGINALLY APPEARED ON ISHAM COOK’S BLOG

A red neon sign so far in the distance it could be a firefly. I too am a fly and it pulls me irresistibly toward it, for it is in the shape of a suspected character, and like most shop signs that consist of a single character, it is probably zu, meaning “foot.” While zu might resemble a standing or crouching man, the upper square being his head, the image is in fact thought to have originally depicted a footprint.

虎毒不食子 (hǔdúbùshízǐ) – As vicious as a tiger is, it doesn’t eat its own cubs. This is used to talk about parents who harm their own children. It suggests that those who do are worse than beasts, always a big smackdown in Chinese.

兔子不吃窝边草 (tùzibùchīwōbiāncǎo) – A rabbit doesn’t eat the grass close to its burrow. Don’t make trouble close to home. That means being good to your neighbours, but it can also be used about dating classmates or colleagues.