"Beer" is often the first word many foreigners learn how to say in a foreign language. However, different cultures have their own unique, and often dangerous concoctions, which make beer seem like a rather anodyne, anemic, little brother.

These concoctions can also serve as introductions into some of your new culture's more elaborate and interesting cultural rituals. For instance, in South Korea, one of the national drinks is soju, which is a strong form of distilled gin. There are any number of social rules which Koreans observe while drinking soju: For instance, when you pour for someone who is senior to you, or older than you, you should place your other hand lightly under your pouring hand or under your opposite elbow. This may prove difficult to remember after your third glass of soju, but, hopefully, everyone else will be too inebriated to notice, or care. They'll simply be impressed at your ability to handle the stuff, and happy that you seem to enjoy it.

In China, the equivalent of soju is baijiu, another white, distilled alcoholic beverage, which fascinates newcomers and makes old hands shudder in both terror and painful memory.

For me, being invited to drink baijiu with my good Chinese friend's family was a rare honor. It was truly a sign that I'd been accepted into the fold. The added bonus was that neither of the two daughters of the family (my friend and her older sister) nor their mother drank baijiu. As a result, the father of the family was only too delighted to welcome a drinking companion into the fold. It also meant that we had the whole bottle to ourselves.

At first, this seemed to add joy to an already delightful Mid-Autumn Festival celebration meal. Later on, I would discover that this rather innocent-looking white stuff in its grand-looking bottle had painful surprises in store for me.

Our meal was wonderful, we ate Hunan smoked-pork, which baba had carefully prepared, along with a number of equally wonderful concoctions prepared by mama. I truly felt like a member of the family, and none more so than when, at the end of the meal, I proffered a bottle of baijiu as a gift. Needless to say, baba was delighted, and so was the rest of the family. As my friend explained to me later, father rarely drinks baijiu with meals, as no one else in the family drinks it. She was delighted to see her father so happy, and I was honored to have been the bringer of such joy.

So, baba and I got down to the serious business of drinking, and setting the world to rights via my (at the time) somewhat shaky Chinese and my friend's excellent translation skills. Things were going brilliantly until, all of a sudden, I realized that I was in danger of missing the last bus home.

My friend explained the situation and I attempted to stand up, only to find that gravity, along with some of the other laws of the physical world, weren't working as they normally seemed to. No matter, everyone seemed happy and I was able to find my way to my bus stop, miraculously managing to cross a main road that seemed to be a liquid mess of light and hissing sounds.

What must have been some hours later, I found myself sitting at my dining table back home, having somehow returned home and gone to bed in the meantime. I looked at the clock. It read 3:30 am.

Oddly, I felt both well rested and as though I'd had some kind of weird surgical procedure which had left me in a limbo world between empty bliss and the undoubted agony which was sure to follow. No matter. My phone buzzed and I received a text from my friend saying how much everyone had enjoyed the evening, and that we should do it again soon.

Every hangover has its own personality, and my baijiu one was certainly a unique character with a warped sense of humor. I didn't care though. I was truly one of the family at last.

China Daily