Sam (the boy I tutor) and his parents took me out to West Mountain on Sunday morning.
My adorable student . . . and the flower he eventually found for me.
I got creamed by the long-underwear-clad twelve-year-olds.
The girls were shy, and apparently just delighted to be watching.
When I got tired of table tennis, I went back to the edge of the lake to drink tea with Sam's mom, who, it turns out, used to run a teahouse/coffeeshop that served Western food. Helpful conversation. And she's just nice. Father is also gentle and kind. He works for city planning . . . and manages to squeeze his car pretty well between the commoner folk hiking on foot up the not-so-wide mountain roads. They're good parents, and demand of Sam an above-average level of consideration for others. They have a woman who cooks and cleans for them, Sam's mom tells me, but she still asks Sam to wash his own clothes. She wants him to learn to 动手 ("move his hands").
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