I once found myself amidst an extravagant Chinese wedding in northwest Beijing, as one of only three guest 老外s in a sea of Chinese family members and friends. Upon entering the banquet hall, and much to my confusion, we were seated at the central table with the parents of the newly weds. Within seconds of sitting down, loose cigarettes, bottles of beer 啤酒 (pí jiǔ) and 白酒 (bái jiǔ) started flying. The two fathers were in an active struggle to refill my glass, encourage me to drink it and then refill it so they could cheers me again. As I looked to my other two fellow 老外 friends, they were embroiled in the same struggle, having random strangers come up to them, cheers them with the phrase 干杯 (gān bēi), synonymous with “bottoms up” or literally “finish glass”, and then repeat the process. People were red faced and grinning, clearly working themselves toward a drunken stupor. Yet everyone seemed to be fine with it.

As the ceremony began to hit a crescendo, the happy newly weds came over to our table, toasting their parents. They then stopped at me, requiring me to slug down two more shots of 白酒. They moved onto the other foreigners and repeated the process. Both the groom and his bride looked tanked by the end of their spin around the table. Then began karaoke, which turned everything up a notch. 白酒 began flowing like water, and a cloud of Double Happiness cigarette smoke enveloped the room as “Hotel California” started blaring. Recognizing the American song, the bride’s father grabbed me by the shoulder and nearly dragged me up on stage to sing it along with him, pausing to make toasts during the lyrics he didn’t know (everything other than “welcome” and “hotel california”).

By the end of the ceremony, it felt as though we had 干杯ed everyone–and it showed. One of our 老外 friends had “lost his lunch” outside, an offense we thought would be seen as disrespect. ”他丢脸，” I said (He’s lost face). My host father just responded with: “不对，他丢肚子” (Wrong, he lost his belly) with a grin on his face. Apparently no harm no foul. And I thought U.S. weddings had lots of drinking!

I mentioned this experience because it’s very telling about drinking culture in China. For most Chinese, it is socially acceptable to be energetic, boisterous and…well…drunk at restaurants, bars and social gatherings. While it is common-place to have a beer or two with lunch and dinne, during celebrations or outings with friends or family, drinking is often done at one pace: full speed ahead. It’s a sign of pride and tradition, harping on Confucian modes of etiquette, where drinking was firmly rooted in scholarly study, as many poets and men of learning were notorious lushes (sound like the US collegiate system?). Men of status would be linked to their drinking exploits and interactions around the drinking hole. Similarly, nowadays, it is both a sign of affluence and also of social standing.

The main forms drink are either either beer 啤酒 (pí jiǔ) or strong grain liquor 白酒 (bái jiǔ). When drinking beer, small 8 ounce glasses are given to individuals, while the bottles of beer are shared. One pours (or has a fellow drinker) pour beer into their individual glass, 杯子 (bēi zi). Usually someone will make a toast, to which you either with raise you glass and clink it with other glasses， or more traditionally, you will lower it below the glass of the most elderly and respected person at the table (or person making the toast) without touching the table. In some areas, people will combine the two and rattle their glasses on the table or lazy susan. Yet, no matter what the toast is or who’s giving it, the Chinese always end a toast with 干杯, to which everyone around the table finishes their individual glass of beer. Once finished, someone almost always refills the glasses, and as if partaking in their solemn drinking duty, makes another toast. This repeats itself until stronger drink is needed. Enter Baijiu.

白酒 (bái jiǔ) is an acquired taste. They say that love or hate it, each new glass tastes better than the last. Maybe that’s why it’s drunk so frequently. It’s also stronger than most hard liquor, save for moonshine. Whenever someone new comes to China, it is necessary that you allow them the forture/misfortune of downing the the stuff. I call it trial by fire, because that’s what it tastes like the first time around. 白酒 is to the Chinese, what Scotch is the the Scottish. There are 5 kuai bottles and 5,000 kuai bottles. Some is only given to official members of the military and party, others can be found literally in every corner shop. Needless to say, it is the traditional Chinese liquor. You grow up drinking it your entire life in China, and you develop a taste for it. So when you want to kick celebrations into high gear, you grab a bottle of 二锅头 and say good bye to propriety.

One often meet lots of new Chinese 朋友s while drinking, and I’ve found it really helps loosen up a foreigner’s Chinese tongue. It is also helpful in building up 关系 or networking with coworkers and employers because the lines of partying and professionalism often blur. My last day of interning, our boss (老板 lǎo bǎn) took me out to a bottle-baijiu-lunch, and then later to a three-bottle-dinner that literally saw me drink a coworker under the table–he lifted a glass to make a toast and, caught off balance, went careening to sleep by under his chair. The 老板 just laughed, threw me a wild stare and exclaimed: 干杯！