I had a better time today, visiting the Great Wall and the Cheng Long Mausoleum. I woke at 6 this morning, to the sweet sound of my brother and the driver snoring in concert, each one apparently trying to outdo the other. Needless to say I entertained thought of pouring ice water down their necks but didn’t, and ended up not in the best of moods during breakfast. The journey to the Wall took about ½ an hour by car, during which we passed the time by telling (blonde) jokes and (not blonde) riddles as well as discussing the relative merits of each character in a movie. (We were travelling with another family which my father somehow got to know. The three kids are Jon, Joanna, and Amanda.)
The Great Wall was great (well, duh). The scenery was incredible, and I’ve photographs to prove it; the sun was shining brightly; it was warm—I sweated; and the incline wasn’t too steep. It’s more like lots and lots of flights of stairs piled together, really. A strong wind was blowing, but that only added to the general niceness of the place; every bit of snow we threw did a U-turn and cart-wheeled right back at the thrower. My father took lots of photos, as usual; [edit: I have 1486 photos of China. /edit] so did Jon, but he accidentally erased all of his from his own digital camera. He cried about it but soon calmed down and cheered up, thank God. I would have hated to spend hours in a car accompanied by sniffles.
The mausoleum wasn’t too bad, either, but it seemed an awful lot of space just to commemorate and house the corpses of one emperor, one empress, and any number of concubines. It was still nice, though; the architecture is good, the furniture better, and the powdery snow everywhere best of all. The children, including me, played with it like mad, and ended up having to shake tonnes of crushed ice off our clothes before entering the car for a 1 ½ hour ride. Otherwise it’d have melted and made puddles. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.
We set off tomorrow for a meeting between my father and a customer in Tianjin, which is a neighbouring area. I’ll be just as cold as here, but probably much more boring. Oh dear me.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
To Beijing from Harbin
I am again in Beijing, but I now feel the warmer for it. Having arrived from Harbin this morning how could I not? The temperatures there are—but I’ll talk (read: complain) of that in its place.
Shopping the last time I was here got me thick gloves and a pair of greater thermal pants. I later got a face mask which made me appear like something out of Counter-strike or something from Afghanistan. Wearing the thick, woollen, itchy, static-laden thing kept fogging up my glasses with my breath, but it was a necessary evil: Harbin’s air is such that all unprotected skin turns numb in seconds.
About Harbin itself…well, I once heard that if one has nothing good to say, then one ought to shut up. Fortunately I don’t buy that adage, or I’d say nothing at all about Harbin, which, I am sure, is a short, innocent-sounding name for the Harbinger of Icy Doom.
The first day (the 25th), I had breakfast in the hotel. It was a buffet. It was quite nice, but not much so, because of the near-total lack of truly filling foods and the overabundance of cream cakes (cakes that are made up of a little cube of sponge in the centre, then sprayed with about one inch of cream on each side to give the illusion of size). I visited Great Peace Island, which is really just a bit of frozen land in the middle of a frozen lake. The idea of a white Christmas, as I said earlier, has now even less appeal to me! There’s not much there to be seen, but there is, is good (compared to the miserable, cheating rest of Harbin). We got cheated by a bunch of slick, smooth-talking pony owners who promised to take us past Great Peace Island to the entrance of the Snow and Ice Sculpture Exhibition; they only took us as far as the jetty—ten minutes from our starting-point and half-an-hour by foot to our intended destination, and demanded—demanded, drat them!—RMB 10 for each passenger! May they spend ten thousand white Christmases naked in the snow, every last one of them! We walked a long time that day, but I don’t care to know how far: it would be quite depressing.
It was pretty, and it was cold. I was pretty cold. The sculptures were great, as were the six inches of glaringly white snow in every direction. What was not at all great was the numbing of the limbs by the wind (that dratted wind went right through my gloves and shoes: oh how my toes and fingers hurt!); the slippery and uneven ground, and the omnipresent stink. The family must’ve walked at least 10 hours that day, covering about 40 to 50 kilometres each. I will never forget how achingly tired I was when I sank down onto the hotel bed that night! Then again, that memory is best forgotten, as it is quite unpleasant, as well as the taxi drivers who refuse to take one up if the fee that will be collected is less than RMB 35! I stood in minus 29 degrees Celsius air that night for half-an-hour vainly trying to hail a taxi; I had to take a bus in the end.
The next day (the 26th), we visited St. Sofia’s Church. It’s a large, Russian church about 50 years old, with imposing and grand architecture. It looks great in a picture or from afar, and looks better up close. Unfortunately, it is a sorry thing now because of the Revolution. The Chinese looted and destroyed it and pretty much reduced it to a shell of its former self. They now use it as a museum of Russian influences on Chinese culture, which meant that I had to buy tickets to get into a church for the first time in my life! And just to make sure that nobody ever thinks that the church is used for religious purposes anymore, they put up a thirty-foot inflatable Santa in front of the building and blasted secular Christmas songs from huge speakers all around the place. I hope never to hear ‘Rudolph’, ‘Frosty’, or ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ in the vicinity of a cathedral again! Talk about grandeur gone to seed… [Sob].
At least the train ride back to Beijing was enjoyable, if only because I knew I’d never see cold, frozen, stinking, dirty, filthy, slippery, icy Harbinger of Icy Doom again for at least a year. And the train cubicles had individual TV sets, to the surprised joy of my two brothers. They both vowed not to sleep till two am, and as far as I know they both made good on that oath.
I arrived in Beijing about 12 hours ago. Since then, I have endured 9 hours of walking. My feet are sore, my clothes dirty (I just bathed for the first time in 4 days), my head aching, my hair flat (a near miracle!), and my whole tired. I am content, however. I’m warm, I’m sated, and I’ll not see Harbin again. Oh, the relief.
And I saw the Forbidden City from the inside. I never before knew one emperor could need so many rooms to do so little! There were rooms for Changing Clothes before Ceremonies, rooms for Resting after Changing Clothes before Ceremonies, rooms for Ceremonies, rooms for Keeping Jade Imperial Royal Seals, etc. etc. ad infinitum. It took hours of walking just to get into the inner court from the outer! What’s more, cold, bitter wind was blowing most of the time.
My sole consolation—cold comfort, this—is that it wasn’t in Harbin.
Shopping the last time I was here got me thick gloves and a pair of greater thermal pants. I later got a face mask which made me appear like something out of Counter-strike or something from Afghanistan. Wearing the thick, woollen, itchy, static-laden thing kept fogging up my glasses with my breath, but it was a necessary evil: Harbin’s air is such that all unprotected skin turns numb in seconds.
About Harbin itself…well, I once heard that if one has nothing good to say, then one ought to shut up. Fortunately I don’t buy that adage, or I’d say nothing at all about Harbin, which, I am sure, is a short, innocent-sounding name for the Harbinger of Icy Doom.
The first day (the 25th), I had breakfast in the hotel. It was a buffet. It was quite nice, but not much so, because of the near-total lack of truly filling foods and the overabundance of cream cakes (cakes that are made up of a little cube of sponge in the centre, then sprayed with about one inch of cream on each side to give the illusion of size). I visited Great Peace Island, which is really just a bit of frozen land in the middle of a frozen lake. The idea of a white Christmas, as I said earlier, has now even less appeal to me! There’s not much there to be seen, but there is, is good (compared to the miserable, cheating rest of Harbin). We got cheated by a bunch of slick, smooth-talking pony owners who promised to take us past Great Peace Island to the entrance of the Snow and Ice Sculpture Exhibition; they only took us as far as the jetty—ten minutes from our starting-point and half-an-hour by foot to our intended destination, and demanded—demanded, drat them!—RMB 10 for each passenger! May they spend ten thousand white Christmases naked in the snow, every last one of them! We walked a long time that day, but I don’t care to know how far: it would be quite depressing.
It was pretty, and it was cold. I was pretty cold. The sculptures were great, as were the six inches of glaringly white snow in every direction. What was not at all great was the numbing of the limbs by the wind (that dratted wind went right through my gloves and shoes: oh how my toes and fingers hurt!); the slippery and uneven ground, and the omnipresent stink. The family must’ve walked at least 10 hours that day, covering about 40 to 50 kilometres each. I will never forget how achingly tired I was when I sank down onto the hotel bed that night! Then again, that memory is best forgotten, as it is quite unpleasant, as well as the taxi drivers who refuse to take one up if the fee that will be collected is less than RMB 35! I stood in minus 29 degrees Celsius air that night for half-an-hour vainly trying to hail a taxi; I had to take a bus in the end.
The next day (the 26th), we visited St. Sofia’s Church. It’s a large, Russian church about 50 years old, with imposing and grand architecture. It looks great in a picture or from afar, and looks better up close. Unfortunately, it is a sorry thing now because of the Revolution. The Chinese looted and destroyed it and pretty much reduced it to a shell of its former self. They now use it as a museum of Russian influences on Chinese culture, which meant that I had to buy tickets to get into a church for the first time in my life! And just to make sure that nobody ever thinks that the church is used for religious purposes anymore, they put up a thirty-foot inflatable Santa in front of the building and blasted secular Christmas songs from huge speakers all around the place. I hope never to hear ‘Rudolph’, ‘Frosty’, or ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ in the vicinity of a cathedral again! Talk about grandeur gone to seed… [Sob].
At least the train ride back to Beijing was enjoyable, if only because I knew I’d never see cold, frozen, stinking, dirty, filthy, slippery, icy Harbinger of Icy Doom again for at least a year. And the train cubicles had individual TV sets, to the surprised joy of my two brothers. They both vowed not to sleep till two am, and as far as I know they both made good on that oath.
I arrived in Beijing about 12 hours ago. Since then, I have endured 9 hours of walking. My feet are sore, my clothes dirty (I just bathed for the first time in 4 days), my head aching, my hair flat (a near miracle!), and my whole tired. I am content, however. I’m warm, I’m sated, and I’ll not see Harbin again. Oh, the relief.
And I saw the Forbidden City from the inside. I never before knew one emperor could need so many rooms to do so little! There were rooms for Changing Clothes before Ceremonies, rooms for Resting after Changing Clothes before Ceremonies, rooms for Ceremonies, rooms for Keeping Jade Imperial Royal Seals, etc. etc. ad infinitum. It took hours of walking just to get into the inner court from the outer! What’s more, cold, bitter wind was blowing most of the time.
My sole consolation—cold comfort, this—is that it wasn’t in Harbin.
Friday, December 24, 2004
To Beijing from Shanghai
I am now in Beijing, and am much the colder for it. To the layers previously mentioned, I have now added a thick overcoat and a long-sleeved shirt. They help keep out the cold somewhat.
Travelling here took all yesterday and most of today; I am by now quite bored of the view of the inside of the car; I am cold and sick of it. It shouldn’t have taken this long, of course, but a snowfall on Beijing caused all major highways leading here to be closed down, so we spent yesterday negotiating country roads that are nowhere on a map. Nearly every road seemed to have been cut off by fallen trees, accidents, or bureaucracy. Thank God we did at least get to a hotel last night, and that the snow was cleared off the highways today. That’s how we got here.
I just had dinner, and lots of it. Apparently the people here are even more generous with raw material than in the big S; and they don’t seem to ever have heard of Aristotle’s Golden Mean. If the food is spicy, it’s burning fiery; if sweet, potentially diabetic; if salty, Dead Sea in a microcosm. I can’t stand spicy food, so I was stuck with eating sugary food or something that must’ve come direct from a salt mine. At least the abundant chrysanthemum tea, abundantly sweetened with huge lumps of sugar, helped me get it down and keep it that way.
The weather’s warm by local standards—only minus one degree! Suffice it to say that having seen and felt snow—with my bare hands—I have no more desire to wish a white Christmas on anybody but my worst of enemies, which does not mean me. I’ve seen, trod on, tasted, thrown, and had snow thrown at me within the course of this one day alone, as well as slipping on an ice-covered path (but not falling).
The only book here with me now is the Christie, which my brother and sister have now read, punctuated with queries on the meaning of a particular word. Apparently my reputation for being a walking dictionary came thence. Considering the travel itinerary, I’m not likely to regret leaving the other books behind for long. Tomorrow is shopping day for warmer clothing; tomorrow night we catch a train to Harbin; the next two days we’ll admire wintry scenery; then after another night train back to Beijing, 2 days’ car rides back to the Big S; after a day or two of packing, we’ll fly back to KK and warm weather. It appears that my sojourn in China is drawing rapidly to its end. I’ve about 10 days more, it appears.
Travelling here took all yesterday and most of today; I am by now quite bored of the view of the inside of the car; I am cold and sick of it. It shouldn’t have taken this long, of course, but a snowfall on Beijing caused all major highways leading here to be closed down, so we spent yesterday negotiating country roads that are nowhere on a map. Nearly every road seemed to have been cut off by fallen trees, accidents, or bureaucracy. Thank God we did at least get to a hotel last night, and that the snow was cleared off the highways today. That’s how we got here.
I just had dinner, and lots of it. Apparently the people here are even more generous with raw material than in the big S; and they don’t seem to ever have heard of Aristotle’s Golden Mean. If the food is spicy, it’s burning fiery; if sweet, potentially diabetic; if salty, Dead Sea in a microcosm. I can’t stand spicy food, so I was stuck with eating sugary food or something that must’ve come direct from a salt mine. At least the abundant chrysanthemum tea, abundantly sweetened with huge lumps of sugar, helped me get it down and keep it that way.
The weather’s warm by local standards—only minus one degree! Suffice it to say that having seen and felt snow—with my bare hands—I have no more desire to wish a white Christmas on anybody but my worst of enemies, which does not mean me. I’ve seen, trod on, tasted, thrown, and had snow thrown at me within the course of this one day alone, as well as slipping on an ice-covered path (but not falling).
The only book here with me now is the Christie, which my brother and sister have now read, punctuated with queries on the meaning of a particular word. Apparently my reputation for being a walking dictionary came thence. Considering the travel itinerary, I’m not likely to regret leaving the other books behind for long. Tomorrow is shopping day for warmer clothing; tomorrow night we catch a train to Harbin; the next two days we’ll admire wintry scenery; then after another night train back to Beijing, 2 days’ car rides back to the Big S; after a day or two of packing, we’ll fly back to KK and warm weather. It appears that my sojourn in China is drawing rapidly to its end. I’ve about 10 days more, it appears.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Really Pre Beijing
Well, Fuzhou Road was disappointing. The books weren’t as cheap as I’d hoped (inflation, I suppose), I didn’t have as much time as I’d wanted, and I couldn’t find Wolf’s wish list. But I did manage to read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (3 hours), the Artemis Fowl Files (1 hour plus), and I did manage to buy 5 classics and a Christie mystery. Total spent, RMB 120. I had to pick something at random for Wolf, so I did; also, I noticed a book entitled ‘Homosexuality in Ancient Art’, with full-colour illustrations, but I doubted if the price were right or if Wolf would want it anyway since I don’t think he’s gay. Besides, it was a large book and heavy.
This morning, I had my shoes’ soles refastened. Now I have one pair of increasingly tattered shoes with wonderfully fixed soles. I and my siblings then proceeded to my father’s office to sing carols to his colleagues, none of whom we knew or had seen. They also had never before seen so many children on one family, as Chinese regulations forbid one family from having more than one child, with the result that most local children are pampered and spoilt beyond measure. The performance itself was woefully off-key, although my brother tried to keep it up with his guitar. It may have had something to do with our nervousness and our utter lack of practice.
I just got back from a long session of window-shopping for warm clothing. All we actually bought was two pairs of socks each and a dinner at Pizza Hut.
We go to Beijing tomorrow at 6:30 am, but we’ll stop overnight halfway to rest. Going the whole distance at one go would probably kill the driver from exhaustion as the whole trip takes something like 20+ hours in optimum conditions. At least I’ll see snow; and if lucky, I’ll visit a bookstore and maybe find a Lone Wolf book there cheap!
I shall, of course, require entertainment on the way there. That’s where the books I bought are expected to come in.
This morning, I had my shoes’ soles refastened. Now I have one pair of increasingly tattered shoes with wonderfully fixed soles. I and my siblings then proceeded to my father’s office to sing carols to his colleagues, none of whom we knew or had seen. They also had never before seen so many children on one family, as Chinese regulations forbid one family from having more than one child, with the result that most local children are pampered and spoilt beyond measure. The performance itself was woefully off-key, although my brother tried to keep it up with his guitar. It may have had something to do with our nervousness and our utter lack of practice.
I just got back from a long session of window-shopping for warm clothing. All we actually bought was two pairs of socks each and a dinner at Pizza Hut.
We go to Beijing tomorrow at 6:30 am, but we’ll stop overnight halfway to rest. Going the whole distance at one go would probably kill the driver from exhaustion as the whole trip takes something like 20+ hours in optimum conditions. At least I’ll see snow; and if lucky, I’ll visit a bookstore and maybe find a Lone Wolf book there cheap!
I shall, of course, require entertainment on the way there. That’s where the books I bought are expected to come in.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Pre Bookstore
I bathed today, with the nearest experience so far to a KK cold-water bath as the hot water was all being used up by another sibling in another bathroom. At least it helped get rid of some of my fatigue; I woke at 8 this morning and, again, have been out all morning, afternoon, and evening.
Sleeping at 11 last night didn’t help. I was up last night setting up my second G-mail account. Herr Robson, who was online at that hour, suggested the name for it: panthera.sapiens@gmail.com. It’s based on a nickname I’ve had since 11 years old, slightly modified and paraphrased to sound more imposing. I am, after all, a science student.
I have watched ‘White Chicks’ on DVD. It was pirated, of course. Fake DVDs are everywhere in the place; one can’t walk five hundred metres without seeing one. It’s not too bad, but the plot could do with a lot of help. Maybe these things are the reason for the spate of book-based movies; books’ plots, generally, are better than those of movies.
I shall be going to Fuzhou Road tomorrow with about RMB 160. I’m none too sure what I do plan to buy, but I shall get some classics. My shopping list includes a book for Wolf, books for myself, 2 MRT tickets, and lunch. Of course, I’ll be alone as my siblings must study.
I’ll be happily reading while they study. So the SPM did have a little use after all!
Sleeping at 11 last night didn’t help. I was up last night setting up my second G-mail account. Herr Robson, who was online at that hour, suggested the name for it: panthera.sapiens@gmail.com. It’s based on a nickname I’ve had since 11 years old, slightly modified and paraphrased to sound more imposing. I am, after all, a science student.
I have watched ‘White Chicks’ on DVD. It was pirated, of course. Fake DVDs are everywhere in the place; one can’t walk five hundred metres without seeing one. It’s not too bad, but the plot could do with a lot of help. Maybe these things are the reason for the spate of book-based movies; books’ plots, generally, are better than those of movies.
I shall be going to Fuzhou Road tomorrow with about RMB 160. I’m none too sure what I do plan to buy, but I shall get some classics. My shopping list includes a book for Wolf, books for myself, 2 MRT tickets, and lunch. Of course, I’ll be alone as my siblings must study.
I’ll be happily reading while they study. So the SPM did have a little use after all!
Sunday, December 19, 2004
So Tired
I am very tired now, in the full sense of the term; I am suffering from a lack of sleep. Having slept at midnight this morning because of a late cell group meeting and gambling sans money, I woke up at 8:30 this morning hardly refreshed. Having been on my feet since 9 this morning till now hasn’t helped one tiny, little, whit.
I have been listening to discussions about the trip to Beijing and Harbin, and am now very pessimistic about my chances of getting a rest while on holiday. The temperatures—I have already told you about them, so I shan’t bother you with redundancy—gangrene is reputed to result from entering a warm room directly from the outdoors; ice and snow are warmer than the air; we are supposed to wake at 6:30 every morning and sleep at 10; and we shall have to walk nearly everywhere! It all sounds quite chillingly un-restful and exhausting. Wonderful holiday, this.
I should, of course, be preparing to rest by now, as I have a full day of church to look forward to tomorrow—3 services, of which one is Chinese and two English—and lots of walking tomorrow. And I have to plan the carols to be sung to my father’s colleagues on Tuesday. For without obtaining prior permission or even asking our opinions, he told his office that we would sing carols to them on Tuesday! We get a free lunch—small comfort—but I detest performing in public. Attending concerts is well and fine; playing before friends, very well; but to sing English carols to a predominantly Chinese audience, none of whom is known—well! Like a well-known simian arch-villain, I can only growl—curses!
At least it’s now possible for me to go the Fuzhou Road. I plan to go on Monday, armed with a little map so I don’t get lost. After all, I only need to know the way to and from the subway and the bookstore. Beyond that, it’s simpler than falling off a perfectly cylindrical, slippery, moss-covered log. I shall need some money, certainly, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I only hope all turns out as expected, because I want to get my shopping done ASAP (another Choleric characteristic, according to online sources; Choleric are supposed to hate shopping for hours on end. But then how comes my enjoyment of haggling?).
And I’ll need to go shopping, for sure; I haven’t thick enough clothing to feasibly withstand the cold weather and freezing air of Beijing and/or Harbin; my shoes, which were bought only last year, are falling to pieces although they’re branded; and I want head protection (ears must be shielded from cold, according to all with personal experience, or else serious injury may occur). But where does one get size 11 ½ walking shoes in the Big S?
I have been listening to discussions about the trip to Beijing and Harbin, and am now very pessimistic about my chances of getting a rest while on holiday. The temperatures—I have already told you about them, so I shan’t bother you with redundancy—gangrene is reputed to result from entering a warm room directly from the outdoors; ice and snow are warmer than the air; we are supposed to wake at 6:30 every morning and sleep at 10; and we shall have to walk nearly everywhere! It all sounds quite chillingly un-restful and exhausting. Wonderful holiday, this.
I should, of course, be preparing to rest by now, as I have a full day of church to look forward to tomorrow—3 services, of which one is Chinese and two English—and lots of walking tomorrow. And I have to plan the carols to be sung to my father’s colleagues on Tuesday. For without obtaining prior permission or even asking our opinions, he told his office that we would sing carols to them on Tuesday! We get a free lunch—small comfort—but I detest performing in public. Attending concerts is well and fine; playing before friends, very well; but to sing English carols to a predominantly Chinese audience, none of whom is known—well! Like a well-known simian arch-villain, I can only growl—curses!
At least it’s now possible for me to go the Fuzhou Road. I plan to go on Monday, armed with a little map so I don’t get lost. After all, I only need to know the way to and from the subway and the bookstore. Beyond that, it’s simpler than falling off a perfectly cylindrical, slippery, moss-covered log. I shall need some money, certainly, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I only hope all turns out as expected, because I want to get my shopping done ASAP (another Choleric characteristic, according to online sources; Choleric are supposed to hate shopping for hours on end. But then how comes my enjoyment of haggling?).
And I’ll need to go shopping, for sure; I haven’t thick enough clothing to feasibly withstand the cold weather and freezing air of Beijing and/or Harbin; my shoes, which were bought only last year, are falling to pieces although they’re branded; and I want head protection (ears must be shielded from cold, according to all with personal experience, or else serious injury may occur). But where does one get size 11 ½ walking shoes in the Big S?
Friday, December 17, 2004
Pre Beijing
It appears that I have a habit of breaking resolutions. Observe the never-ending “Last post before SPM” s! I have just seen Canal, Ice, and family again (I presume for the last time this year). And not only have I seen them, but I have watched them play basketball for about 1 ¾ hours, returned them several DVDs, gotten a plate of baked sweetmeats as well as a box of cookies, and had a Bible study with them. Oh, and I also got lost momentarily in an LRT station. It wasn’t my entire fault—my ticket wasn’t expensive enough, and I got held up to repay the balance, during which my accompaniments vanished. So I got lost. They did find me eventually, though.
Plans have now been laid to go to Beijing and then to Harbin soon; I shudder metaphorically and literally. Beijing is 2 days away by car and about 7 to 8 degrees colder than the Big S; Harbin is 12 hours away from Beijing by train and has an average winter temperature of minus 29 degrees in the afternoon. Pros: I’ll see snow. Cons: I’ll be cold. Wolf shares my sentiments here.
I hope to get to Fuzhou Road before leaving for Beijing and get me some books. I’ll have to get loads of books if I’m to survive 48 hours travelling in the car. And I’ll have to get Wolf’s wish list too if possible. And Meow’s, too (she wanted ‘anything catty’). Besides, with the gweilo family gone, we are pretty much without contacts here, so I am going to be quite bored. What, you think I get to sit about here watching DVDs all day for entertainment?
I bathed today. It’s been 5 days since I last did so, and the stench proves it. At any rate, I now know the full meaning of Tolkien’s poem in the LOTR trilogy (‘Water Hot!’). There’s nothing quite like it when one is frozen to the bone from the wind and air outside. However, I have a premonition that once I get to the Frozen North, I’ll appreciate saunas and hot baths as never before. I’ll just have to pack extra-strength cold pills as well as the diarrhoea pills I’ve been taking. (They work: I’m fine now.)
Plans have now been laid to go to Beijing and then to Harbin soon; I shudder metaphorically and literally. Beijing is 2 days away by car and about 7 to 8 degrees colder than the Big S; Harbin is 12 hours away from Beijing by train and has an average winter temperature of minus 29 degrees in the afternoon. Pros: I’ll see snow. Cons: I’ll be cold. Wolf shares my sentiments here.
I hope to get to Fuzhou Road before leaving for Beijing and get me some books. I’ll have to get loads of books if I’m to survive 48 hours travelling in the car. And I’ll have to get Wolf’s wish list too if possible. And Meow’s, too (she wanted ‘anything catty’). Besides, with the gweilo family gone, we are pretty much without contacts here, so I am going to be quite bored. What, you think I get to sit about here watching DVDs all day for entertainment?
I bathed today. It’s been 5 days since I last did so, and the stench proves it. At any rate, I now know the full meaning of Tolkien’s poem in the LOTR trilogy (‘Water Hot!’). There’s nothing quite like it when one is frozen to the bone from the wind and air outside. However, I have a premonition that once I get to the Frozen North, I’ll appreciate saunas and hot baths as never before. I’ll just have to pack extra-strength cold pills as well as the diarrhoea pills I’ve been taking. (They work: I’m fine now.)
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Shopping In The Morning
I have just returned from a long and tiring day out, most of it spent at Canal’s. Well, it’s not really tiring in the popular sense of the word; fatigued would be a more accurate description of me at the current moment.
I awoke at 7:30—late by KK standards but early for my current schedule—for a quick breakfast before setting out for a local shopping street, whose name literally translates to Orange-Yellow Temple. (My father and my brother had left the house one hour earlier for an hour of extremely early tennis.) None of the four of us knew the way, but my father had insisted that the 911 or 926 buses would deposit us right at its front door, so we set out after obtaining a little money. (The brother who played tennis got tired and declined to come.) Well, he was very wrong. We had to ask directions several times before being directed to the number 26 bus. And even then we had to walk quite a distance before we arrived.
The Orange-Yellow Temple is a huge market, located in the older section of the Big S, packed with bargains and chock-full of mathoms. (It’s Tolkien’s term for an item that you never use and never throw away.) I and my siblings were the last of the shopping group to arrive; when we arrived there, Ice, Broccoli, and about 8 other children were on a large crooked bridge waiting for us. They were also being photographed by eager locals who exclaimed over their hair and complexion. I suppose that 12 gweilo children is a sight to behold, indeed.
We separated into two groups; Ice, Jess, Nat, and I formed one group and the rest formed the other. My group went a-walking and eventually ended up at a few shops. Some bargaining later, a highly carved 12-inch dagger was bought. Still later, I bargained with a seller and got two sets of Western chess with brass-and-steel men for the price of one. I should, of course, have gotten them cheaper. A better haggler could’ve reduced them to about one-tenth their original price and the seller to tears.
I myself got a couple of pig pencil holders for the Pig and Roger. I’m not quite sure about how to get them to their destinations, though. Kelvin, on the other hand, wants Chinese coins—one of each denomination. That’s much easier for me to get and give, since he’s not too far out of reach.
I spent much of today online in Canal’s house. My classmates will no doubt have noticed. It was pleasant, but I shan’t be able to do it for much longer as they’re leaving for the US of A the day after tomorrow, and I’m sure my mother will have no qualms about banning me from spending hours online chatting, especially when we’ve got several hundred square feet of flat to clean. Also I think I should change my socks, as people’s expressions change noticeably when my feet are nearby.
I won’t be seeing Canal and family again, I think, until January 1st, since tomorrow is their ‘packing day’, and after that they leave. It’s a pity, but then there’re plans afoot to visit the northern areas for a week or so. It’s a mercy I’m recovered (mostly).
I awoke at 7:30—late by KK standards but early for my current schedule—for a quick breakfast before setting out for a local shopping street, whose name literally translates to Orange-Yellow Temple. (My father and my brother had left the house one hour earlier for an hour of extremely early tennis.) None of the four of us knew the way, but my father had insisted that the 911 or 926 buses would deposit us right at its front door, so we set out after obtaining a little money. (The brother who played tennis got tired and declined to come.) Well, he was very wrong. We had to ask directions several times before being directed to the number 26 bus. And even then we had to walk quite a distance before we arrived.
The Orange-Yellow Temple is a huge market, located in the older section of the Big S, packed with bargains and chock-full of mathoms. (It’s Tolkien’s term for an item that you never use and never throw away.) I and my siblings were the last of the shopping group to arrive; when we arrived there, Ice, Broccoli, and about 8 other children were on a large crooked bridge waiting for us. They were also being photographed by eager locals who exclaimed over their hair and complexion. I suppose that 12 gweilo children is a sight to behold, indeed.
We separated into two groups; Ice, Jess, Nat, and I formed one group and the rest formed the other. My group went a-walking and eventually ended up at a few shops. Some bargaining later, a highly carved 12-inch dagger was bought. Still later, I bargained with a seller and got two sets of Western chess with brass-and-steel men for the price of one. I should, of course, have gotten them cheaper. A better haggler could’ve reduced them to about one-tenth their original price and the seller to tears.
I myself got a couple of pig pencil holders for the Pig and Roger. I’m not quite sure about how to get them to their destinations, though. Kelvin, on the other hand, wants Chinese coins—one of each denomination. That’s much easier for me to get and give, since he’s not too far out of reach.
I spent much of today online in Canal’s house. My classmates will no doubt have noticed. It was pleasant, but I shan’t be able to do it for much longer as they’re leaving for the US of A the day after tomorrow, and I’m sure my mother will have no qualms about banning me from spending hours online chatting, especially when we’ve got several hundred square feet of flat to clean. Also I think I should change my socks, as people’s expressions change noticeably when my feet are nearby.
I won’t be seeing Canal and family again, I think, until January 1st, since tomorrow is their ‘packing day’, and after that they leave. It’s a pity, but then there’re plans afoot to visit the northern areas for a week or so. It’s a mercy I’m recovered (mostly).
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Warning: Much Bitching
I have been vomiting and having diarrhoea for most of the past 3 days. Treatment administered by family: plenty of walking, abstinence from all beverages but plain cold water (and I do mean cold), and absolutely no sympathy. It’s irritating, to say the least.
Anyway, I’ll now recapitulate the events of the past few days (behold my sacrifice: for this blog I prevail against sickness!). on Friday, nothing occurred but that we went to a local cell group, some of which’s members I later saw in church. On Saturday, we went to Suzhou and stayed there for about 6 hours, during which we bought nightgowns, thick hats, shawls, fans, and other trifling stuff for a fraction of the prices written on their tags. Yesterday, we went to Canal’s in the morning for a house church service and to get our left-behind things back. After that, we went to the church proper for the English services and a cantata, which was quite well done and enjoyable. At night, I had some fries and ½ a burger for dinner, but found neither quite to my taste and promptly threw up, thereby wasting perfectly bad food over which only the most desperately hungry person would have drooled.
Right now, I’m highly annoyed with my family. (It happens all the time in large families; I’m told that my dad had 12 siblings and their house was never peaceful.) Warning to all: the following paragraphs are unadulterated bitching and should be disregarded as the product of a very unsettled, sick, prone-to-persecution-complexes mind.
But now, it’s back to my bitching. I don’t like them, and they don’t like me. I’m annoyed by their complete lack of sympathy for my weakened condition, not that I was very strong to begin with anyway. They also have this tendency to point all blame and guilt my way, as well as the fact that all arguments are my fault, and I’m never in the right, and everything I say has to be repeated 20 times before they realise I’m talking, and I’m supposed to be perfectly nice to them no matter how they are. Not to mention my kid brother’s incessant shrieking, shouting, screaming, and otherwise mangling rock songs. It was bad enough in KK; much more so here in this tiny little flat. I can tolerate high decibels and quick tempo, but most emphatically NOT first thing in the morning, and even more certainly not when I’m sick!!
They dislike me, of course, but I have no idea why. Who cares? Those [extremely distasteful expletives deleted] people I live with don’t need any logic but ‘Big Brother is always wrong until proven right, at which time he will be made to be in the wrong by force’. And then my parents have used the old, old method of turning into The Control Freaks from God Only Knows Where, and they’re now threatening to send me back to KK early to the accompaniment of hysterical clapping from my siblings. It’s all very annoying. OK, bitching over. I really needed to get that out of my system; I’ve seen what repressing anger does to a person, and it’s not pretty.
Of course, this probably can all be explained by my having a persecution complex, which means that I constantly see things as me against the world, with the world winning. According to several tests, my personality is Melancholy Choleric, which boils down to that I am easily offended and occasionally go into temporary depression, as those who have sat near me for long periods of time probably know by now. You can get better explanations online, but I think of it as the Perfectionist/ Control Freak combo.
Anyway, I’ll now recapitulate the events of the past few days (behold my sacrifice: for this blog I prevail against sickness!). on Friday, nothing occurred but that we went to a local cell group, some of which’s members I later saw in church. On Saturday, we went to Suzhou and stayed there for about 6 hours, during which we bought nightgowns, thick hats, shawls, fans, and other trifling stuff for a fraction of the prices written on their tags. Yesterday, we went to Canal’s in the morning for a house church service and to get our left-behind things back. After that, we went to the church proper for the English services and a cantata, which was quite well done and enjoyable. At night, I had some fries and ½ a burger for dinner, but found neither quite to my taste and promptly threw up, thereby wasting perfectly bad food over which only the most desperately hungry person would have drooled.
Right now, I’m highly annoyed with my family. (It happens all the time in large families; I’m told that my dad had 12 siblings and their house was never peaceful.) Warning to all: the following paragraphs are unadulterated bitching and should be disregarded as the product of a very unsettled, sick, prone-to-persecution-complexes mind.
But now, it’s back to my bitching. I don’t like them, and they don’t like me. I’m annoyed by their complete lack of sympathy for my weakened condition, not that I was very strong to begin with anyway. They also have this tendency to point all blame and guilt my way, as well as the fact that all arguments are my fault, and I’m never in the right, and everything I say has to be repeated 20 times before they realise I’m talking, and I’m supposed to be perfectly nice to them no matter how they are. Not to mention my kid brother’s incessant shrieking, shouting, screaming, and otherwise mangling rock songs. It was bad enough in KK; much more so here in this tiny little flat. I can tolerate high decibels and quick tempo, but most emphatically NOT first thing in the morning, and even more certainly not when I’m sick!!
They dislike me, of course, but I have no idea why. Who cares? Those [extremely distasteful expletives deleted] people I live with don’t need any logic but ‘Big Brother is always wrong until proven right, at which time he will be made to be in the wrong by force’. And then my parents have used the old, old method of turning into The Control Freaks from God Only Knows Where, and they’re now threatening to send me back to KK early to the accompaniment of hysterical clapping from my siblings. It’s all very annoying. OK, bitching over. I really needed to get that out of my system; I’ve seen what repressing anger does to a person, and it’s not pretty.
Of course, this probably can all be explained by my having a persecution complex, which means that I constantly see things as me against the world, with the world winning. According to several tests, my personality is Melancholy Choleric, which boils down to that I am easily offended and occasionally go into temporary depression, as those who have sat near me for long periods of time probably know by now. You can get better explanations online, but I think of it as the Perfectionist/ Control Freak combo.
Friday, December 10, 2004
Sick of Noodles
I was laid up for most of today by a terrible stomach-ache that has been hypothetically traced to the bowl of noodles that I had for lunch yesterday. Drat that oily, unhygienic bowl of slimy noodles! The experience has been most uncomfortable; I began today with a bout of vomiting that turned the toilet bowl murky green and turned the toilet odorous, after which I had absolutely no appetite for breakfast or lunch. Woe is me—and my cough isn’t gone yet!
It, however, seems to be temporarily abated (by the absence of food to throw up or dispose of via diarrhoea); so I had a very little dinner at Canal’s. It was, I suppose, a typical gweilo dinner, by which I mean that it had plenty of meat and little or no fibre. That’s the end of my nonexistent weight-loss plan. However, it was enjoyable, if only because the sight of soft drinks being guzzled down in huge quantities by 16 people at once is a sight worth seeing. Not, though, during normal meals.
I have gotten G-mail, thanks to Kelvin. It’s about the same as my blog address: l4zyt1g3r@gmail.com. None too imaginative, but at least little spam will find its way there. It’s disappointing that my usual nickname has been taken and underscores are forbidden, but I suppose even Google.com must have wrinkles to iron out. At least the gigabyte’s worth of memory isn’t a fake. But what do I do with the invites I will receive?
I have borrowed the LOTR trilogy from Canal. I’ll have plenty of time to read them, of course, and time to reread them again; but I’ll be dreadfully cold. Chalk it up to my newfound amnesia: I left my jacket in Canal’s house! Fortunately I have an overcoat handy or my fear of cold would aggravate the tortures yet to come. According to my kid brother, stuff gets left behind every time the family visits Canal and family. I blame it on the genes. I just don’t know which side the genes come from.
It, however, seems to be temporarily abated (by the absence of food to throw up or dispose of via diarrhoea); so I had a very little dinner at Canal’s. It was, I suppose, a typical gweilo dinner, by which I mean that it had plenty of meat and little or no fibre. That’s the end of my nonexistent weight-loss plan. However, it was enjoyable, if only because the sight of soft drinks being guzzled down in huge quantities by 16 people at once is a sight worth seeing. Not, though, during normal meals.
I have gotten G-mail, thanks to Kelvin. It’s about the same as my blog address: l4zyt1g3r@gmail.com. None too imaginative, but at least little spam will find its way there. It’s disappointing that my usual nickname has been taken and underscores are forbidden, but I suppose even Google.com must have wrinkles to iron out. At least the gigabyte’s worth of memory isn’t a fake. But what do I do with the invites I will receive?
I have borrowed the LOTR trilogy from Canal. I’ll have plenty of time to read them, of course, and time to reread them again; but I’ll be dreadfully cold. Chalk it up to my newfound amnesia: I left my jacket in Canal’s house! Fortunately I have an overcoat handy or my fear of cold would aggravate the tortures yet to come. According to my kid brother, stuff gets left behind every time the family visits Canal and family. I blame it on the genes. I just don’t know which side the genes come from.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Shopping and Haggling
I went shopping with most of my family (my father was absent) this morning at a nearby flea market. (Note: My definition of ‘near’ has now been changed to ‘within 30 minutes’ walk from a subway station’.) It was fun, especially as we went there early and got some pretty good bargains, although we really should’ve driven the prices much lower. Anyway, I did manage to chop a bag from RMB 400++ to 140, T-shirts from RMB 185 to 35, and others. Quite enjoyable, the haggling, especially when the sellers have enough wit to banter and come up with the most outlandish reasons why the price should be higher (‘My sister’s friend’s husband’s second babysitter just went bankrupt and I’m trying to help them’), upon which one has to come up with one’s own reasons and replies (‘Go tell someone who cares, sister’). Canal did not enjoy it one bit as his gweilo temperament is impatient—even though I was haggling on his account! (I had no money of my own to buy things with.) From his expression, the poor kid was bored to death and beyond…several times.
It was also amusing to see the fakes strolling through the streets, peddling their wares and going straight for Canal like flies to honey, while ignoring my siblings and I who were trailing behind. He got quite tired of it before long (roughly 5 minutes), and began spouting long-winded and polysyllabic words to try to drive them away, presumably by reinforcing the local belief that all whites are crazy. It was the first time that I have heard sunglasses derided as superficial!
One of them did target me, however, and persistently, too; the dolt even grabbed my arm at one point to forcibly pull me off! I’d have loved to pound the guy 6 feet under, but Canal and my sister took pity on him and went to see his wares, eventually buying RMB 139 worth of imitation watches off him. Obviously persistence does pay off. At any rate, I plan to bring some money if I ever go there again (to buy the food, for which one can also haggle).
Today was relatively uneventful apart from the shopping this morning, which took 5 hours. Otherwise, I’ve done no more than watch Rain Man, take a nap, play ping-pong, and watch TV. Tomorrow, I expect to be as relaxing, albeit warmer. Upon my mother’s orders, I sent my long johns to wash and am now devoid of one of my main protections from the cold. Therefore, I am now very, very, very cold indeed. Add to that the fact that I’ve developed a rather dry cough, which, I am most certain, is not good for me. Along with a headache and dramatically diminished appetite (as anyone who has seen me eat will tell you, this is extremely rare). If only I knew why!
It was also amusing to see the fakes strolling through the streets, peddling their wares and going straight for Canal like flies to honey, while ignoring my siblings and I who were trailing behind. He got quite tired of it before long (roughly 5 minutes), and began spouting long-winded and polysyllabic words to try to drive them away, presumably by reinforcing the local belief that all whites are crazy. It was the first time that I have heard sunglasses derided as superficial!
One of them did target me, however, and persistently, too; the dolt even grabbed my arm at one point to forcibly pull me off! I’d have loved to pound the guy 6 feet under, but Canal and my sister took pity on him and went to see his wares, eventually buying RMB 139 worth of imitation watches off him. Obviously persistence does pay off. At any rate, I plan to bring some money if I ever go there again (to buy the food, for which one can also haggle).
Today was relatively uneventful apart from the shopping this morning, which took 5 hours. Otherwise, I’ve done no more than watch Rain Man, take a nap, play ping-pong, and watch TV. Tomorrow, I expect to be as relaxing, albeit warmer. Upon my mother’s orders, I sent my long johns to wash and am now devoid of one of my main protections from the cold. Therefore, I am now very, very, very cold indeed. Add to that the fact that I’ve developed a rather dry cough, which, I am most certain, is not good for me. Along with a headache and dramatically diminished appetite (as anyone who has seen me eat will tell you, this is extremely rare). If only I knew why!
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Just Finished LOTR
I just bathed for the first time since arriving here, but I have not changed my long johns because I haven’t any others. Otherwise, I am wearing clean clothes. I also just finished reading The Hobbit. Quite a nice book, but I wish all good books lasted longer. J.R.R. Tolkien writes in a similar, albeit more long-winded and detailed, fashion to C.S. Lewis’ books; both have a knack of writing about the magical or mystic in a familiar yet charming way, as if they were next-door neighbours or some such thing.
I have just realised that I am an oddity of nature and that my DNA should be preserved for the lasting benefit and close study of future generations. I am destined never to have a beard or moustache and never to use a razor or other shaving equipment while always preserving a full head of hair. The Pig shaves; Canal—2 years younger than I!—shaves; I do not have the least bit of stubble on any part of my face but the scalp. Not that I care; it’s all the more money saved for me. The money otherwise spent on trimming back excess facial keratin-based polymers daily will be better used if redirected to the purchase of books. If, of course, I should ever choose to buy them myself instead of borrowing them, having others buy them for me, or reading them at breakneck speed in a bookshop. My 4th aunt has already promised me the LOTR trilogy, after all, and I can easily ask her for the Silmarillion, the Hobbit, and other books I want to read, including her extensive collection of horror stories (to borrow, of course).
I have practised my piano for the first time since landing, in Canal’s house this afternoon. As I didn’t know the way, I brought my brother as a guide. It was at best a doubtful choice, as he has a tendency to get lost in the most familiar places in most innovative methods, as have I. Anyway, we arrived without incident. He went rock climbing; I practised piano. Canal’s mini upright is quite damaged. The keys squeak, the body creaks, and the pedals are stiff. My fingers, on the other hand, are no better as they have gone quite numb from cold as well as rusty from want of practice; my pieces were woefully mistake-ridden. My piano teacher will most certainly have words for me!
I have finally settled into something of a routine—comforting to me, as I am a control freak who likes events to occur in an orderly manner. I like knowing what comes, or should come, next. My day generally begins with waking up, folding my three thick blankets, dumping the lot in my brothers’ room, restoring the sofa to usability, after which I have breakfast, which is followed by general mayhem as the flat is swept, mopped, wiped, and otherwise cleaned to sparkling perfection. Then, after that, comes some time to do little or nothing till lunchtime. After lunch, I play ping-pong or go for a walk or whatever to keep busy, until six—dinnertime. Next is an hour or so of TV, and then some study time during which I alternate between writing this journal to keep my hotchpotch cursive in use, and watching my siblings study. Last of all is washing up and sleep. Boring, but comfortingly so, if you get my drift. After all, I am no social butterfly or movie maven or mall rat.
My feet are quite sore; it must be the constant walking; I am certain beyond all shadow of doubt that my ex-classmates would be whimpering and whining if they were in my increasingly well-worn shoes. Of course, I should not like to be in theirs either, especially those who have been sentenced to Three Months of Torture. They are by now surely marching in endless circles while being constantly bombarded by brainwashing patriotic propaganda! There but for the grace of God go I. [shudder]
…Oh, and I returned the football to Canal. I had to do so before my siblings got any bright ideas about actually playing with the thing—the floors are thin and might break! In fact the downstairs neighbours just called to complain that our walking across the floor causes vibrations in their flat…
I have just realised that I am an oddity of nature and that my DNA should be preserved for the lasting benefit and close study of future generations. I am destined never to have a beard or moustache and never to use a razor or other shaving equipment while always preserving a full head of hair. The Pig shaves; Canal—2 years younger than I!—shaves; I do not have the least bit of stubble on any part of my face but the scalp. Not that I care; it’s all the more money saved for me. The money otherwise spent on trimming back excess facial keratin-based polymers daily will be better used if redirected to the purchase of books. If, of course, I should ever choose to buy them myself instead of borrowing them, having others buy them for me, or reading them at breakneck speed in a bookshop. My 4th aunt has already promised me the LOTR trilogy, after all, and I can easily ask her for the Silmarillion, the Hobbit, and other books I want to read, including her extensive collection of horror stories (to borrow, of course).
I have practised my piano for the first time since landing, in Canal’s house this afternoon. As I didn’t know the way, I brought my brother as a guide. It was at best a doubtful choice, as he has a tendency to get lost in the most familiar places in most innovative methods, as have I. Anyway, we arrived without incident. He went rock climbing; I practised piano. Canal’s mini upright is quite damaged. The keys squeak, the body creaks, and the pedals are stiff. My fingers, on the other hand, are no better as they have gone quite numb from cold as well as rusty from want of practice; my pieces were woefully mistake-ridden. My piano teacher will most certainly have words for me!
I have finally settled into something of a routine—comforting to me, as I am a control freak who likes events to occur in an orderly manner. I like knowing what comes, or should come, next. My day generally begins with waking up, folding my three thick blankets, dumping the lot in my brothers’ room, restoring the sofa to usability, after which I have breakfast, which is followed by general mayhem as the flat is swept, mopped, wiped, and otherwise cleaned to sparkling perfection. Then, after that, comes some time to do little or nothing till lunchtime. After lunch, I play ping-pong or go for a walk or whatever to keep busy, until six—dinnertime. Next is an hour or so of TV, and then some study time during which I alternate between writing this journal to keep my hotchpotch cursive in use, and watching my siblings study. Last of all is washing up and sleep. Boring, but comfortingly so, if you get my drift. After all, I am no social butterfly or movie maven or mall rat.
My feet are quite sore; it must be the constant walking; I am certain beyond all shadow of doubt that my ex-classmates would be whimpering and whining if they were in my increasingly well-worn shoes. Of course, I should not like to be in theirs either, especially those who have been sentenced to Three Months of Torture. They are by now surely marching in endless circles while being constantly bombarded by brainwashing patriotic propaganda! There but for the grace of God go I. [shudder]
…Oh, and I returned the football to Canal. I had to do so before my siblings got any bright ideas about actually playing with the thing—the floors are thin and might break! In fact the downstairs neighbours just called to complain that our walking across the floor causes vibrations in their flat…
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Spring-Cleaning in Winter
As I expected yesterday, this morning, my mother went into a spring-cleaning frenzy although it’s the middle of winter. As a direct result of the ensuing flurry of activity, the floor is gleaming, the windows and furniture wiped, and the piles of assorted stuff on the floor put in relative order. It took all morning to get them that way. I also went to the local market whit my mother—or, rather, what’s left of the local market. Most of the streets where it used to be have been torn down, and so the market disbanded. The sellers are still around, though, just not so apparent to the eye. Anyhow, we found it and I got a chance to see a chicken slaughtered before my very eyes. The sight is gory, so I’m not going to describe it here in the interests of better taste.
I played some ping-pong for part of the afternoon. I’d rather play badminton, of course, but the weather being inclement (too windy), I had to make do and pick up a new sport as best I could, which was not very well. My brother says my serves are good, for a beginner; but if only I could return his serves! Oh well, I suppose one shouldn’t complain when on holiday. Well, not much, anyway.
I went out at 6:15 pm, by which time the sky was pitch black, to (watch Canal, Ice and my brother) play basketball. No, don’t go into shock just yet; I don’t like SPORTS, but I do enjoy a good talk, and the gweilos aren’t quite that dumb as the Pig. Unfortunately, I forgot that I couldn’t talk to them during play, and so found it horribly boring as usual. Thank God Canal’s sister and a Singaporean friend turned up, so I had a nice time bashing gweilos in Manglish with the Singaporean girl. It’s a long time since I last spoke Manglish! All in all, it wasn’t too bad, except for the 45-minute walk to the courts in freezing weather. At least Canal did sponsor drinks for everybody. It was quite generous of him considering that there were about 8 people to cater for, but somehow the cold drinks he bought appear incongruous with the climate.
And they inadvertently gave us their rugby ball. Not really gave, of course, but lent. My kid brother was playing with it, and when they left, they omitted to get it back. So it is now with my family. I’ll have to return it sometime soon, since they’ll leave for the US on the 17th. Maybe I can get them to buy me stuff like the LOTR trilogy, which they already have and read. I’m so jealous. Plus they’re loaded with cash!
I plan to go over to practice tomorrow, around 2 to 4. Of course, I’ll need an accompaniment, since I don’t know the way that well and have a tendency to get lost. It’s all irrelevant, though, since the point is that I shall get to my music at long last and, unsurprisingly, my beloved food. My intake has doubled in recent days—not surprising, since statistics show that food consumption increases greatly in cold climes. So that’s why gweilos are so big. Even here in the big S, most people are big, if not in stature, then in paunch. Like my father. He used to be quite slim when he was in KK…
I played some ping-pong for part of the afternoon. I’d rather play badminton, of course, but the weather being inclement (too windy), I had to make do and pick up a new sport as best I could, which was not very well. My brother says my serves are good, for a beginner; but if only I could return his serves! Oh well, I suppose one shouldn’t complain when on holiday. Well, not much, anyway.
I went out at 6:15 pm, by which time the sky was pitch black, to (watch Canal, Ice and my brother) play basketball. No, don’t go into shock just yet; I don’t like SPORTS, but I do enjoy a good talk, and the gweilos aren’t quite that dumb as the Pig. Unfortunately, I forgot that I couldn’t talk to them during play, and so found it horribly boring as usual. Thank God Canal’s sister and a Singaporean friend turned up, so I had a nice time bashing gweilos in Manglish with the Singaporean girl. It’s a long time since I last spoke Manglish! All in all, it wasn’t too bad, except for the 45-minute walk to the courts in freezing weather. At least Canal did sponsor drinks for everybody. It was quite generous of him considering that there were about 8 people to cater for, but somehow the cold drinks he bought appear incongruous with the climate.
And they inadvertently gave us their rugby ball. Not really gave, of course, but lent. My kid brother was playing with it, and when they left, they omitted to get it back. So it is now with my family. I’ll have to return it sometime soon, since they’ll leave for the US on the 17th. Maybe I can get them to buy me stuff like the LOTR trilogy, which they already have and read. I’m so jealous. Plus they’re loaded with cash!
I plan to go over to practice tomorrow, around 2 to 4. Of course, I’ll need an accompaniment, since I don’t know the way that well and have a tendency to get lost. It’s all irrelevant, though, since the point is that I shall get to my music at long last and, unsurprisingly, my beloved food. My intake has doubled in recent days—not surprising, since statistics show that food consumption increases greatly in cold climes. So that’s why gweilos are so big. Even here in the big S, most people are big, if not in stature, then in paunch. Like my father. He used to be quite slim when he was in KK…
Monday, December 06, 2004
Just Got Here
I have just returned home from a long day out. This is easily proven from the fact that I left the house at 9:20 this morning and, as just mentioned, just got back. I have also walked more in this one day than I usually do in a week. It is somewhat surprising that I should have so quickly gotten used to calling the dim little flat that I now inhabit with my family ‘home’, but then the old bromide—are there any new bromides?—says that home is where the heart is, and what better place is there for the heart to be than where one’s family is also?
I have met Canal and family (Father: Leaf, mother: Trace, brother: Ice, sister: Broccoli, kid sister: Mercedes, kid brother: Jo, last brother: Ben), as well as several other gweilo families, including a Chinese American one, which is the first one I have met so far (outside my own family) that speaks both good English and Chinese. Unfortunately, he is a rugby enthusiast, which I am not. In fact it seems that a large part of the local English-speaking population is addicted to Stupidly Puerile, Odorously Rotten Things like Sports (SPORTS). A pity; I had thought I might find intelligence lurking about somewhere.
The two flights (I took a transit via Brunei) were uneventful except for a few incidents. First, I met Kevin on his way to KL in a KFC restaurant during lunch. Second, the flight to Brunei from KK was delayed four hours. Third, the plane’s entertainment system shut down completely on the way to the Big S, relegating all passengers to 3 ¾ hours of gloomy monotony. Fourth, the view from the plane en route to Brunei was interesting because the top of the…troposphere, I think it’s called…formed a mirrored surface and reflected the clouds, which being in their customary weird shapes, gave the impression that we were looking at mists reflected off water.
I am now officially very cold. In the last twelve hours, I have gone from a 30 Celsius clime to a 5 Celsius one: a 25-degree drop. My customary T-shirt and shorts have been swapped for long johns, a T-shirt, jeans, and a sweater when indoors; going outdoors requires me to put on a parka and windbreaker as well. (I think they call it that because it smells like someone just broke wind on it when it’s new.)
I sat through 4 hours of church services today. It wasn’t too bad, though, since the children’s section put on a Christmas performance. Technically, it’s actually Advent, since Christmas is still about 20 days away, but so what?
The best thing so far about the place is that most of the bills are footed by my dad’s company. The worst things are that there’s no keyboard here so I can’t practice unless I visit Canal who has a mini upright, there’s no computer but my dad’s so I can’t chat much, and I can’t access a blog because they’ve been banned by the Chinese servers! I can access the charitable classmate’s blog, but not my own; apparently this ban extends only to the public blog services like tabulas.com or blogger.com. Anyway, the upshot of this is that I am virtually cut off from all my former contacts.
Not, of course, that my current contacts are perfect little beasts. Canal and family are somewhat interesting characters, and they can take quite a lot of physical abuse (Ben in particular never seems to get tired of getting beaten up), but their accents are beyond incomprehensible. I can understand their English only with difficulty, let alone the mangled and distorted Chinese they speak! Oh well, you can’t win them all.
For now, I’m almost contented. No studying for me in the near future, a mega bookstore within one hour’s walking distance, people to chat to (and snob or insult if necessary), and massive portions of food. Because raw material here is cheaper than dirt, a RMB 5 bowl of noodles here is twice as large as any in KK; and probably is better cooked, too. I only wish that the surrounding area was warmer by about 15 degrees, and smelt better. It reeks of cigarettes, cars’ exhaust, factories, and countless globs of spit. But then one can’t have all things to order.
Like one’s bed, for instance. The flat is small, and has six beds for the seven of us. As a result, I got assigned to sleeping on the sofa. It’s easily the softest bed in the place, and warm, but I am always the last to sleep as I find it difficult to sleep except in total darkness. (Perhaps my short-sightedness and colour-blindness combine to create extra photosensitivity?)
The flat, my mother says, is in filthy disarray. That translates to a day of spring-cleaning tomorrow with my siblings. I haven’t even recovered from arriving past midnight—strictly speaking, I only arrived this morning. Very early this morning, to be sure, and I did catch a few hours of sleep, but it was this morning all the same. All I want now is a nice long respite from work, study, and physical activity in all forms; but given that my father and brother are now on the sofa (read: my bed) watching tennis, I’m not likely to get my wish for awhile yet. Oh well, it’s been a pretty OK time so far anyway, except for my socks, which now stink to high heaven. What can you expect after wearing them for 9 hours straight?
I have met Canal and family (Father: Leaf, mother: Trace, brother: Ice, sister: Broccoli, kid sister: Mercedes, kid brother: Jo, last brother: Ben), as well as several other gweilo families, including a Chinese American one, which is the first one I have met so far (outside my own family) that speaks both good English and Chinese. Unfortunately, he is a rugby enthusiast, which I am not. In fact it seems that a large part of the local English-speaking population is addicted to Stupidly Puerile, Odorously Rotten Things like Sports (SPORTS). A pity; I had thought I might find intelligence lurking about somewhere.
The two flights (I took a transit via Brunei) were uneventful except for a few incidents. First, I met Kevin on his way to KL in a KFC restaurant during lunch. Second, the flight to Brunei from KK was delayed four hours. Third, the plane’s entertainment system shut down completely on the way to the Big S, relegating all passengers to 3 ¾ hours of gloomy monotony. Fourth, the view from the plane en route to Brunei was interesting because the top of the…troposphere, I think it’s called…formed a mirrored surface and reflected the clouds, which being in their customary weird shapes, gave the impression that we were looking at mists reflected off water.
I am now officially very cold. In the last twelve hours, I have gone from a 30 Celsius clime to a 5 Celsius one: a 25-degree drop. My customary T-shirt and shorts have been swapped for long johns, a T-shirt, jeans, and a sweater when indoors; going outdoors requires me to put on a parka and windbreaker as well. (I think they call it that because it smells like someone just broke wind on it when it’s new.)
I sat through 4 hours of church services today. It wasn’t too bad, though, since the children’s section put on a Christmas performance. Technically, it’s actually Advent, since Christmas is still about 20 days away, but so what?
The best thing so far about the place is that most of the bills are footed by my dad’s company. The worst things are that there’s no keyboard here so I can’t practice unless I visit Canal who has a mini upright, there’s no computer but my dad’s so I can’t chat much, and I can’t access a blog because they’ve been banned by the Chinese servers! I can access the charitable classmate’s blog, but not my own; apparently this ban extends only to the public blog services like tabulas.com or blogger.com. Anyway, the upshot of this is that I am virtually cut off from all my former contacts.
Not, of course, that my current contacts are perfect little beasts. Canal and family are somewhat interesting characters, and they can take quite a lot of physical abuse (Ben in particular never seems to get tired of getting beaten up), but their accents are beyond incomprehensible. I can understand their English only with difficulty, let alone the mangled and distorted Chinese they speak! Oh well, you can’t win them all.
For now, I’m almost contented. No studying for me in the near future, a mega bookstore within one hour’s walking distance, people to chat to (and snob or insult if necessary), and massive portions of food. Because raw material here is cheaper than dirt, a RMB 5 bowl of noodles here is twice as large as any in KK; and probably is better cooked, too. I only wish that the surrounding area was warmer by about 15 degrees, and smelt better. It reeks of cigarettes, cars’ exhaust, factories, and countless globs of spit. But then one can’t have all things to order.
Like one’s bed, for instance. The flat is small, and has six beds for the seven of us. As a result, I got assigned to sleeping on the sofa. It’s easily the softest bed in the place, and warm, but I am always the last to sleep as I find it difficult to sleep except in total darkness. (Perhaps my short-sightedness and colour-blindness combine to create extra photosensitivity?)
The flat, my mother says, is in filthy disarray. That translates to a day of spring-cleaning tomorrow with my siblings. I haven’t even recovered from arriving past midnight—strictly speaking, I only arrived this morning. Very early this morning, to be sure, and I did catch a few hours of sleep, but it was this morning all the same. All I want now is a nice long respite from work, study, and physical activity in all forms; but given that my father and brother are now on the sofa (read: my bed) watching tennis, I’m not likely to get my wish for awhile yet. Oh well, it’s been a pretty OK time so far anyway, except for my socks, which now stink to high heaven. What can you expect after wearing them for 9 hours straight?
Friday, December 03, 2004
Scool No More
It seems incredible that I should be at last out of the grip of the Slimy Purple Muck, although it did turn out as evil as its name. The Biology test was a killer, and I mean that wholeheartedly. Half the class was in a daze after the exams! It just goes to show the amazing ability of the teenage mind that less than four hours later, most of my class and the next few classes were at a prom at Silk Harbour.
Yes, I went to the prom, notwithstanding the numerous objections I put up to it in my last post. (Incidentally, I’ve noticed that I have about three ‘last posts before SPM’. Wonderful how resolutions can never be stuck to, isn’t it?) And I did, surprisingly, enjoy myself somewhat, so the 40 bucks wasn’t totally wasted after all.
I went with Wolf. He, also, had planned not to go, but when he found that he was going to have a dinner with his extended family, he suddenly remembered that he had to go to the prom. So he went in my car, since he lives near me and didn’t have other transport. (His parents were taking the only car to the dinner, and he can’t drive legally yet.)
It turned out that Jack wanted me to go because I know English and therefore could be a good emcee. I doubted it, and said so emphatically. He doubted what I said, and insisted equally emphatically that I could be a good emcee. I gave in, since I thought that even if I embarrassed myself like [expletive deleted], I’d not see any of my classmates again, so it wouldn’t really matter. Of course, when the Pig, Kelvin, and Herr Robson found out, they started hypothesising on the method in which the microphone would destruct. The charitable ex-classmate suddenly decided to go, to (in her own words) ‘see me make a fool of myself’. The milk of human kindness evidently just went sour in them, or maybe they just got irritated by me.
Anyway, I got to the venue around 6.30 pm. I and Wolf were the earliest ones, barring the Pig, Nil, and the Midget. The Pig had obviously taken advantage of his mother’s occupation as a hairstylist, and gotten his hair bleached a most unbecoming shade of yellow. Being from Canada, I suppose he feels the need to look like a gweilo more acutely than the average person. In any case, he looked awful. It was a formal occasion (the ticket said ‘Dress: Formal’ in large, 2-inch type) but the dolt was wearing a singlet and windbreaker! All that was missing was the placard proclaiming: Will Work for Reading Lessons.
The prom was supposed to start at seven, but at that time, less than one-eighth of the people who were supposed to come had come. Typical Malaysian time, I’d say, or maybe they wanted to be fashionably late. Lacking all sense of fashion and being extremely time-conscious, I was on time. My fellow emcee was not. I suppose this irritation showed in my terse greetings; the reactions were…explosive.
By seven-thirty, the prom had just begun—half an hour behind schedule. Terrible, but then one can never expect mere teens to know what their timepieces say, can one? After all, it must be so difficult (one must have empathy for mere mortals) to read numbers when they have to think at the same time! The above rant is just my schedule-loving opinion, of course. I like things to work, or go, or happen as planned: unscheduled chaos is most certainly not for me! (That is probably why I dislike sports and war movies.)
At least the food was good, although the beef was a little tough. Well, maybe not just a little. A lot!! The time it took me to chew my way through one piece of beef would have sufficed me to read a ten-page book twice! And the seasoning! Three chunks of that fibrous mess and I was experiencing capsaicin overkill! But apart from that minor glitch, I had my 40 bucks’ worth of dinner. Macaroni, mixed vegetables, salad, fried rice, what looked like Alpo, spaghetti, blueberry cake, muffins, soup, and various other edibles went the same way. I felt a little bloated after that, but hey, buffets are for people who like eating, with me among them. The best way to enjoy food is to eat it, after all!
After dinner was an unscheduled mass of photo shooting. Flashes went off everywhere; if they were all of different colours, one would have thought that one was seeing a fireworks show. I got into a few shots myself, surprisingly; I would never have thought that a face such as mine would look good on glossy paper. (The best place I can think of for my face is Halloween.) Anyway, I waddled around (yes, waddled. Try eating a tonne at a go and see how you walk!), being taken photos of and generally doing nothing in particular.
The performances, at least, were good, even if the performers were occasionally off-key or forgot their lines. They obviously enjoyed themselves, and the audience (the true Chinese part) found offering singers potted plants strangely amusing. And the hired help enjoyed it, too. We were paying them to just stand around for most of an evening listening to some of us belt out songs that the Bananas among us couldn’t understand! Or maybe that’s just the influence of the half-glass of alcohol I consumed. A schoolmate sponsored it, and I drank it and enjoyed it; it was, after all, a good wine. I daresay it had some influence on my behaviour, but I don’t think so; alcohol mainly affects the mind before one’s actions. And one’s breath, of course; Herr Robson told me several times that I stank of red wine. (Don’t ask me how Aaron drove home last night; his passengers probably became heartily carsick from his constant weaving.)
After the performances by the Sumo, She Kylie, and the Waiter, I announced the lucky draw winners, the Pig included. In fact, half the people at my table got prizes at the lucky draw. Somewhat defying the statistics, I’m sure, but that was what happened. And that’s not all: two people drew the ballots, one male and one female. The female drew only male names, dominantly from the right of the hall; the male, Jack, drew mostly female names, from the left half. He was particularly delighted when he drew the charitable ex-classmate’s name, and clamoured to be in the photo-shoot. Crushes are inexplicable; Roger, for instance, was in an agony of waiting until Meow appeared, but when she finally came, half an hour late, he didn’t dare to go within five feet of her. I had to forcibly push him to her side; and even then, he ran like she was a Zombie Queen or something. The pheromones must be working the wrong way now. Andy and Vanessa was the opposite end of the scale: every time I looked at them, they were holding hands, except during dinner. Even then, Vanessa scarcely moved from the table, as Andy went running all her errands: taking appetisers, main courses, refills, refills, more refills, desserts, etc. I never want to be like that! Then again, considering my looks, I won’t ever need to worry about that.
After numerous more group photos, during which the cheek muscles of every single person in the place got cramps, the prom was nearly over. That was when the Waiter got a surprise birthday party, complete with cake. It was a pity that several people had already gone home, so the cake couldn’t be eaten right away. My gluttony is apparently well-known; he gave me roughly one-fifth of the cake to paper bag home! (It is in my fridge as I write; somehow birthday cake doesn’t seem quite right as leftovers.)
I went home around eleven and slept till 8.30 this morning, which is highly irregular behaviour, because I normally wake quite early. I blame it on the red wine. Wolf went home earliest of all, I think; he apparently didn’t enjoy it.
Anyway, today is the first day of the holidays, and I just finished clearing out five years’ worth of junk paper from my cabinets. I’m a collector of sorts; where most people take circulars and throw them, I keep them. I found a five-year old list of Valentine’s Day items for sale! It amounted to a pile of paper of about twenty cm; the school gives out many circulars, as well as a large number of exam sheets. Well, I’ve thrown it out, and given myself a weight-lifting exercise in the process. Oh, my aching back!
I’m going to Shanghai tomorrow from Brunei; it’s a transit flight. I’ve finished packing most of the stuff I’m brining there, except for toiletries, which I can’t pack yet for obvious reasons. So far, my Buy-for-Schoolmates list has one person on it: Wolf, who wants me to buy books for him. Anyone else who wants something had better send me an email, along with directions on how to give it to them; I’m not buying a thing for anybody unless I know how to get it to them! No junkyard sale for me, thank you!
So this is my last post for the year, since I certainly won’t be posting anything once in Shanghai. So Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Happy New Year, etc, etc, all! And may God bless us everyone!
Yes, I went to the prom, notwithstanding the numerous objections I put up to it in my last post. (Incidentally, I’ve noticed that I have about three ‘last posts before SPM’. Wonderful how resolutions can never be stuck to, isn’t it?) And I did, surprisingly, enjoy myself somewhat, so the 40 bucks wasn’t totally wasted after all.
I went with Wolf. He, also, had planned not to go, but when he found that he was going to have a dinner with his extended family, he suddenly remembered that he had to go to the prom. So he went in my car, since he lives near me and didn’t have other transport. (His parents were taking the only car to the dinner, and he can’t drive legally yet.)
It turned out that Jack wanted me to go because I know English and therefore could be a good emcee. I doubted it, and said so emphatically. He doubted what I said, and insisted equally emphatically that I could be a good emcee. I gave in, since I thought that even if I embarrassed myself like [expletive deleted], I’d not see any of my classmates again, so it wouldn’t really matter. Of course, when the Pig, Kelvin, and Herr Robson found out, they started hypothesising on the method in which the microphone would destruct. The charitable ex-classmate suddenly decided to go, to (in her own words) ‘see me make a fool of myself’. The milk of human kindness evidently just went sour in them, or maybe they just got irritated by me.
Anyway, I got to the venue around 6.30 pm. I and Wolf were the earliest ones, barring the Pig, Nil, and the Midget. The Pig had obviously taken advantage of his mother’s occupation as a hairstylist, and gotten his hair bleached a most unbecoming shade of yellow. Being from Canada, I suppose he feels the need to look like a gweilo more acutely than the average person. In any case, he looked awful. It was a formal occasion (the ticket said ‘Dress: Formal’ in large, 2-inch type) but the dolt was wearing a singlet and windbreaker! All that was missing was the placard proclaiming: Will Work for Reading Lessons.
The prom was supposed to start at seven, but at that time, less than one-eighth of the people who were supposed to come had come. Typical Malaysian time, I’d say, or maybe they wanted to be fashionably late. Lacking all sense of fashion and being extremely time-conscious, I was on time. My fellow emcee was not. I suppose this irritation showed in my terse greetings; the reactions were…explosive.
By seven-thirty, the prom had just begun—half an hour behind schedule. Terrible, but then one can never expect mere teens to know what their timepieces say, can one? After all, it must be so difficult (one must have empathy for mere mortals) to read numbers when they have to think at the same time! The above rant is just my schedule-loving opinion, of course. I like things to work, or go, or happen as planned: unscheduled chaos is most certainly not for me! (That is probably why I dislike sports and war movies.)
At least the food was good, although the beef was a little tough. Well, maybe not just a little. A lot!! The time it took me to chew my way through one piece of beef would have sufficed me to read a ten-page book twice! And the seasoning! Three chunks of that fibrous mess and I was experiencing capsaicin overkill! But apart from that minor glitch, I had my 40 bucks’ worth of dinner. Macaroni, mixed vegetables, salad, fried rice, what looked like Alpo, spaghetti, blueberry cake, muffins, soup, and various other edibles went the same way. I felt a little bloated after that, but hey, buffets are for people who like eating, with me among them. The best way to enjoy food is to eat it, after all!
After dinner was an unscheduled mass of photo shooting. Flashes went off everywhere; if they were all of different colours, one would have thought that one was seeing a fireworks show. I got into a few shots myself, surprisingly; I would never have thought that a face such as mine would look good on glossy paper. (The best place I can think of for my face is Halloween.) Anyway, I waddled around (yes, waddled. Try eating a tonne at a go and see how you walk!), being taken photos of and generally doing nothing in particular.
The performances, at least, were good, even if the performers were occasionally off-key or forgot their lines. They obviously enjoyed themselves, and the audience (the true Chinese part) found offering singers potted plants strangely amusing. And the hired help enjoyed it, too. We were paying them to just stand around for most of an evening listening to some of us belt out songs that the Bananas among us couldn’t understand! Or maybe that’s just the influence of the half-glass of alcohol I consumed. A schoolmate sponsored it, and I drank it and enjoyed it; it was, after all, a good wine. I daresay it had some influence on my behaviour, but I don’t think so; alcohol mainly affects the mind before one’s actions. And one’s breath, of course; Herr Robson told me several times that I stank of red wine. (Don’t ask me how Aaron drove home last night; his passengers probably became heartily carsick from his constant weaving.)
After the performances by the Sumo, She Kylie, and the Waiter, I announced the lucky draw winners, the Pig included. In fact, half the people at my table got prizes at the lucky draw. Somewhat defying the statistics, I’m sure, but that was what happened. And that’s not all: two people drew the ballots, one male and one female. The female drew only male names, dominantly from the right of the hall; the male, Jack, drew mostly female names, from the left half. He was particularly delighted when he drew the charitable ex-classmate’s name, and clamoured to be in the photo-shoot. Crushes are inexplicable; Roger, for instance, was in an agony of waiting until Meow appeared, but when she finally came, half an hour late, he didn’t dare to go within five feet of her. I had to forcibly push him to her side; and even then, he ran like she was a Zombie Queen or something. The pheromones must be working the wrong way now. Andy and Vanessa was the opposite end of the scale: every time I looked at them, they were holding hands, except during dinner. Even then, Vanessa scarcely moved from the table, as Andy went running all her errands: taking appetisers, main courses, refills, refills, more refills, desserts, etc. I never want to be like that! Then again, considering my looks, I won’t ever need to worry about that.
After numerous more group photos, during which the cheek muscles of every single person in the place got cramps, the prom was nearly over. That was when the Waiter got a surprise birthday party, complete with cake. It was a pity that several people had already gone home, so the cake couldn’t be eaten right away. My gluttony is apparently well-known; he gave me roughly one-fifth of the cake to paper bag home! (It is in my fridge as I write; somehow birthday cake doesn’t seem quite right as leftovers.)
I went home around eleven and slept till 8.30 this morning, which is highly irregular behaviour, because I normally wake quite early. I blame it on the red wine. Wolf went home earliest of all, I think; he apparently didn’t enjoy it.
Anyway, today is the first day of the holidays, and I just finished clearing out five years’ worth of junk paper from my cabinets. I’m a collector of sorts; where most people take circulars and throw them, I keep them. I found a five-year old list of Valentine’s Day items for sale! It amounted to a pile of paper of about twenty cm; the school gives out many circulars, as well as a large number of exam sheets. Well, I’ve thrown it out, and given myself a weight-lifting exercise in the process. Oh, my aching back!
I’m going to Shanghai tomorrow from Brunei; it’s a transit flight. I’ve finished packing most of the stuff I’m brining there, except for toiletries, which I can’t pack yet for obvious reasons. So far, my Buy-for-Schoolmates list has one person on it: Wolf, who wants me to buy books for him. Anyone else who wants something had better send me an email, along with directions on how to give it to them; I’m not buying a thing for anybody unless I know how to get it to them! No junkyard sale for me, thank you!
So this is my last post for the year, since I certainly won’t be posting anything once in Shanghai. So Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Happy New Year, etc, etc, all! And may God bless us everyone!
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