I was back in Qufu yesterday. I did the normal stuff of checking out the Confucius mansion and temple. I strolled along Drum Tower road, and scouted out an Islamic restaurant that I'll dine at in the future. It usually seems to be that whenever I go out somewhere I can count on a unique experience to happen to me that you wouldn't usually think would happen. Yesterday was no different. While in the back of the Confucius mansion, we were at the last exhibit about to leave. The place was getting ready to close down and it was all but deserted. We sat on a stone bench while I wrote down a couple things. We got up to leave and make our way back to the bus station. At the entrance to the exhibit, we were greeted by an old man carrying a thermos of hot water. In Chinese he asked me and my companion if we'd like to accompany him back to his little room for a cup of tea and a chat. We hesitated at first knowing that we needed to catch a bus soon, but I couldn't resist. He led us to the side of the building where there was a little room with a bed, a coal stove, a desk and countless cigarette butts on the floor. We sat down as he poured the tea and settled into an enlightening conversation about such topics as the history of Qufu and his life. It was obvious that he was a rather nostalgic gentleman and as it turns out, he was a member of the 74th generation of descendants of Confucius. He told us what life was like before 1949 when the communists took over and how common people couldn't enter the Mansion and temple complex. Wandering around the Mansion and temple is enjoyable, but the 45 minutes we spent with that old man was probably the best memory I took away from yesterday. I shook his hand, gave him a cigarette, and we were on our way back home...