In desperation I went to the Chinese lady who owned the restaurant. "Can you please tell Ben to stop ordering any more food? Our stomachs will simply burst!"

"But he hasn't even ordered dessert yet," she said.

"What dessert?"

"Sweet dessert. Don't you have them after dinner in China? American people love their dessert," she replied.

I'd never heard of such a thing called dessert.

By the end of the evening we had so much leftover food on the table I asked Ben if we could take it home. I couldn't bear the waste. I thought of all the starvation in China. But everyone that night seemed to admire our slimness and I couldn't understand why. In China being thin was a symbol of poverty and being fat meant you had money to buy good food. Later I discovered that many people in America went to expensive diet clinics to lose weight. I could easily help them, I thought, just by sending people to China and feeding them those dried yams for a while.

When we got back to Ben's place that night I had my first bath. The water soaked my body and soothed my every nerve. I even let the water come over my face and I blew bubbles like a child. It was incredible. I couldn't decide whether I liked the shower or the bath better. The bed was a different matter though. The soft bouncy mattress was very uncomfortable!

When I woke up next morning I had to pinch myself to make sure that everything was real. When I heard Ben's voice downstairs calling us for breakfast, I knew it was true. I was in America. For six whole weeks.

Ben had already cooked us some bacon and eggs. "Would you like some English muffins?" he asked.

Zhang and I exchanged horrified looks. "No, thank you!" we replied quickly. What a terrible thing for Ben to offer us for breakfast, I thought to myself.

This time Ben was puzzled. "What's wrong?" With the help of my dictionary, I replied. "Muffin meaning horse shit in Chinese."

Ben roared with laughter. "First `Oh dear me` and now `horse shit!` We're going to have a lot of fun this summer," he said.

Next he offered us some orange juice. He sliced several oranges and by the time he had filled up three glasses he had used nearly ten! I felt like a criminal drinking that precious glass of juice. My family had never even seen an orange before. And it was the first time that we'd ever tasted bacon, toast, butter and jam too. We had masses of food. Ben couldn't believe where it all went. He had to cook another packet of bacon and fry more eggs. It was as though we hadn't eaten for eighteen years.

After breakfast we went straight to the Houston Ballet Academy which was within walking distance of Ben's apartment. The academy was in an old single-storey brick building shared with the Houston Ballet Company. There were four medium-sized studios.

Clare Duncan, the head of the academy, took us around and introduced us to the teachers and students. It was the first day of the summer school and it was like a zoo in there. Zhang and I were completely confused. Everyone looked alike and their names were impossible to remember.

"Ballet class, when?" I asked Ben, with the aid of my dictionary. Seeing all the students dancing and hearing the music made me eager to begin.

"You can start today if you like," Ben replied.

The only word I understood was "today", but that was enough.

When I looked into the studios I noticed all the male students wore black tights, white T-shirts, socks and shoes. The only pair of tights I had was given to me by one of my teachers back in China. He'd got them from a British ballet dancer and they were bright blue. Zhang had a white pair of tights-I wasn't sure where he'd got them from.

"No pants," I told Ben after I found the word "pants" in my dictionary.

"You don't need pants for class." Ben was puzzled.

"Pants, pants!" I repeated as I demonstrated a plié and pointed at my legs.

"You don't need pants, you only need ti… oh, tights!" Ben shouted excitedly.

"Yes!" I wasn't sure what the word tights meant but it looked like Ben had understood so I smiled broadly.

Ben quickly organised for us to go to a dancewear shop. Ben had given Stephanie, the company manager, enough money to buy Zhang and me two pairs of tights, dance belts and a pair of ballet shoes, over two hundred dollars worth each. I quickly did a currency conversion: two hundred dollars was equivalent to over two years of my dia's salary. How could I justify Ben spending two years salary on my dance wear! "Do you realise how much these tights and shoes cost?" I said to Zhang.

"No. How much?" he asked.

"Over a thousand yuan!"

His jaw dropped then too.

It was lunchtime when we arrived back at the academy and a Houston Ballet board member, Louisa Sarofim, was already waiting to take us to lunch at a nearby restaurant.

From the way the restaurant owner treated Louisa, I knew we were about to have lunch with yet another class enemy. The restaurant was amazingly elegant and cool, with fresh-cut flowers everywhere.

We were handed a menu each. I couldn't read anything except the prices and nothing was below $14.95. Since Louisa was going to pay, I thought I should be modest and not order anything too expensive. I didn't want to leave a bad impression. I told Zhang of my intentions. "I will do the same," he said.

We chose two of the cheapest items on the menu. I hadn't any idea what I'd ordered but I was confident that in a restaurant of this stature we wouldn't be left starving.

Minutes later, the waiter placed a small plate of green salad in front of me and a small bowl of green soup in front of Zhang. I still remember the look Zhang gave me. I forced out a smile and quickly turned my eyes away.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, concerned.

"Okay!" I replied brightly. Zhang just nodded. Louisa probably thinks we're so thin because we don't like to each much, I thought. I poked my fork into the greens and tasted a leaf of my very first salad. "Good taste!" I said to Zhang, trying to encourage him.

"Good taste!" Zhang replied and forced himself to finish his green soup. Luckily the waiter kept circling our table with freshly baked bread.

Louisa dropped us back at the studio and Clare Duncan showed us to the men's dressing-room. I put on the tights we had bought that morning. They felt very soft and comfortable compared to my bright blue pair from home.

The studio was packed with dancers when we arrived. On the centre barre the students moved up to make room for Zhang and me. Then Ben walked in. I remember he wore a T-shirt with " London " written on it and a pair of silk-like black pants. His energy and his passion for his teaching seemed to inspire everybody. During the class I kept a keen eye on other students and to my surprise I discovered Zhang and I compared well to the others. The precision of our technique was high and this could only have come about from the strict discipline of our Chinese training.

There were students here from England, Canada and other places, a result no doubt of Ben's international reputation as a teacher, choreographer and artistic director. Our schedule was full each day. There were many classes-ballet, character, modern ballet, pas de deux, body conditioning and choreographic workshops. I wasn't sure what to expect in the modern ballet class, but our Chinese folk dance classes and tai chi movements made it easy for us to find some common ground. The body conditioning class was different-it was based on something called Pilates, and I could see it would help me understand my own body and deal with my physical weaknesses and injuries.

Everyone in the classes seemed to be busy making new friends. Zhang and I couldn't remember their names or understand what they were saying but we were warmly embraced by many of the students. We were even given fifty dollars per week as a living allowance. I never dreamt of having that amount of money in my entire life! Eight months of my dia's wages! I tried to save as much money as possible from that living allowance so I could help my family when I returned to China.