Today was actually rather relaxed. In theory, once I had run to English Composition carrying a half-eaten burger and finished class, I had nothing else to do. I still ended up making several trips between professors’ offices to sort out my switch to a double major, and spent ages chatting with one professor in Chinese while I was at it, haha.

In any case, dinner was probably the most leisurely meal I have had in days. Allow me to set the scene. Starting from the far left side of the long table, there was Jaemin, the Korean student I met on the bus during the orientation Walmart Run—technically a Walmart Drive, haha. Next came the aggressively multicolored, questionably edible cafeteria cream jelly that some people could calmly consume any number of. Then there was wrinkly Kris, still clearing his game dailies over dinner. Because of this, we taught everyone the Chinese pronunciation of “gacha-game addict” and enthusiastically explained why the players are compared to cockroaches. Our Korean classmate was delighted. Beside him sat Ted, who finished the jelly with the same untroubled expression. (Incidentally, those last two are both exchange students from the Shanghai Civil Aviation College.) Finally there was Korbin, who has started learning Chinese under the professor I mentioned and who prepares a detailed to-do list for every day: the God of To-Do Lists, in sharp contrast with the many Gods of Last-Minute Deadlines present.

On my side of the table, starting from the left, sat James, a Chinese upperclassman born and raised in America; me, putting on an expression of pure agony after one bite of jelly; Liah, who joined me in complaining about how awful it tasted; and Amy, also from China, who likewise could not understand how anyone managed to swallow the stuff.

Before you stands the SAGA Branch of the Chinese Embassy in the United States! SAGA, for the record, is what we call our cafeteria.

There is a painful story behind that name. For ease of communication, I made a WeChat group called “Chinese Embassy in the United States,” where everyone could freely type in Chinese. (Why did switching to an American phone number automatically turn my WeChat into the international version?) For some unfathomable reason, I removed an upperclassman I already knew that morning and kept only the other two Shanghai gentlemen, intending to use it as a smaller chat. They persuaded me that this was not terribly appropriate. The prodigal son returned, added the upperclassman back, and created a separate small group. Sorry! 🙇‍♂️ And yes, that is the small group’s name.

Another fun fact: when I arrived, I noticed that the cafeteria was labeled “Corner Cafe” on the map. Why did everyone call it “SAGA”? Surely it did not stand for “Soviet Attempted to Govern America”? (A classic case of making up more than you know.) I asked my Peer Advisor—roughly, the person assigned from above to shepherd the new children around. Fine, we are all adults; some are even raising children of their own. I also asked the teacher in Cornerstones, essentially LETU’s beginner tutorial for freshmen, from enrollment to burial. And thus I learned the history:

Once upon a time—several decades ago, in fact—the cafeteria’s contractor was a company named SAGA. Its food was apparently so dreadful that, even after the school went through several new contractors, the name SAGA survived and has been passed down to this day.

Future LETU students, did you take notes?

One more amusing thing happened today. I reached the hall early for my first class of the morning, walked into a classroom, and saw Ted and Sascha—yes, the one who already has a child—just finishing the previous class. Without a second thought, I sat down and chatted with them. After they left, I opened the Puzzle Association’s daily pencil puzzle and began my rigorous GPH training. (A monstrous lie. I was slacking off.)

The professor entered and introduced himself. Good. My classmates began their introductions. Fine. My turn came, and I delivered my fun fact without incident… wait. Why did none of their names match the course roster? Why could I not find a single one of these people in the schedule?

Professor: All right, everyone at the front has introduced themselves. Let us start from the back—

Me (raising my hand): Wait, Professor. I believe I have another fun fact… What is this room number?

Professor: Huh? C104.

Me (checks schedule): Right. I am in the wrong room. I should be in C140.

NO LONGER HUMAN

Half an hour had already passed since class began.

Fortunately, when I reached the correct room for the second half, I had not missed much. They had mostly read through the syllabus, which I could catch up on myself. My seat was not even warm before they began introductions, so I introduced myself twice in one morning.

Sigh. Pencil puzzles: not even once. (