请客 (qing'ke), or, the art of invitation

It is one of the first lessons in college-level Chinese, something described as an indispensable part of Chinese culture, and something I actually attempted to describe in my fellowship interview. My concise Oxford University Press Chinese-English dictionary defines "qing ke" as the following:
"stand treat; entertain guests; give a dinner party; play the host."

I think I described it in my Watson interview when posed the question, how exactly are you actually gonna get to know all these Chinese people? I tried to describe how during my times in China, as well as with my family back home in the U.S., relationships are made and cemented through "qing ke." Basically, one asks another (or a group of people) for a lunch, a cup of tea, a beer, or really any other social activity. I'm not well versed in the specifics, but I'm pretty sure some sort of monetary exchange is necessary, in order to demonstrate that one is actually treating the other person (So, inviting someone for a walk in the park doesn't count, but paying for the post-walk teahouse does). When the bill eventually comes, the appropriate parties spend a good amount of time fighting over the bill. If one is particularly determined to treat, he or she makes prior arrangements (with the restaurant staff, for instance) so the bill doesn't slip into the wrong hands.
Of course, once one has treated another, it is the guest's unspoken duty to treat the host the next time.

I should mention that I tried to "qing'ke" the second day in Lima, with a chain-smoking Tianjin guy with stained yellow teeth, a leather jacket, and a thick Northerner accent (which stands out against the Cantonese-inflected Mandarin that most others speak here). It was like I was in Beijing all over again -- visitors of the Chinese capital have probably all noticed the large groups of such men in restaurants rowdily downing beer after beer, shirts rolled up and faces red, cigarette stumps littered across the floor. After noting we were living in the same neighborhood, I invited him out for a beer, as befits this seemingly stereotypical northerner. He politely agreed, but nothing ever came of it, and for some odd reason, I haven't seen him in his shop since that first day.

It's now been nearly two weeks since I got here, and I finally had my first two "qing'ke" exchanges in the past three days. I failed to pay both times, perhaps reflecting my novice bill-fighting abilities. I would like to note that I was also quite clearly playing against a home-field advantage: the first time, it was the restaurant owner who was treating me. I tried to force the ten soles bill (about $3.40) into her hands, but it simply wouldn't take. It's amazing. I tried a couple times, but she refused and simply said "next time."


The second time happened today. Roxane, who I think I mentioned in a previous post, invited me and her son (who is the same age) out for lunch at Chifa Canton. The food was delicious, a great vegetable dish with my favorite mu'er, a fungus literally translated as "tree ears," and a local fish steamed in classic Cantonese style with a healthy amount of ginger and scallions. I kept thinking, there is no way I can let her pay for this. Unbeknownst to me, however, Roxane had apparently made previous arrangements with the restaurant owner (who is her good friend) to pay for the lunch, so when I asked for the bill, they said it had already been paid. Even worse, Roxane had slipped out to work, so I couldn't even fight with her for the bill.

But I think that these two "qing'ke" incidents are good signs. They may have treated me this time, but no matter how much they fight for the bill next time, eventually I'll win, and I'll pay. It's an unspoken rule. And it signifies that at the very least, a kind of personal relationship is forming.