Monday, 4th Day

from Aaron's previous blogging activities:

Some clanking noises woke me around 4 am so I got up, checked email and continued writing my journal. I planned to try to catch breakfast, so I stopped writing, showered and got dressed. More fireworks in the morning. They don’t even need an occasion for them, apparently. Chinese breakfast wasn’t as awful as Nigel made it out to be. Their version of oatmeal was rather bland, but they also had a few varieties of rolls, one filled with seasoned pork, one filled with a date paste (my favorite), one decked with occasional tomato and basil bit, and some spicy vinegared cabbage to round out. Before Erin had class, the other teachers entreated her to “take a rest” at her office desk, which is the long form of “relax.” I observed Erin at her class to see what I was in for, sat in the back on little wooden chair while she ran exercises with them. The Chinese teacher translated for them whenever Erin said something they didn’t understand. Our job is to get the pronunciation right. English comprehension is a skill that we take for granted. Here, it is a valuable tool, a coveted trait. What a strange world. We are accidental experts purely for being born in the states. (Actually Erin was born in Canada, but it still applies) I went to the arts building after Erin’s class and found it open. I met Feng Jao Li, a music teacher and goddess. I asked if I could play the piano, and she nodded. She knows about as much English as I know Chinese, but we managed to communicate with pantomime and a truckload of smiles. I played a couple songs and then I had her play, and she kicked out this Chopin piece that floored me. We tried to talk to each other, but she kept lapsing into Chinese and all I could do was smile and shrug, it was agonizing. But I told her I would teach her English if she would teach me Chinese. I felt my heart flutter. Such a spark in her, such vibrant life. I ate lunch with Erin and afterwards, Nigel gave us a bunch of dishes, and a tutorial of the washing machine. We met with Principal Sheng today, in his office on the third floor of the administrative building. He’s a pleasant man, in his early 40’s I’d wager, with a touch of all-business to him. He asked us about the flight, about Erin’s luggage, about our accommodations, where we were from, etc. A couple times as we were sitting there, he stopped talking and looked out the window, and the lull was such we were uncertain if he was going to snap out of it. But then he would look at us again, and say, “If you have any problems, see me or Rose.” Then he had a phone call and we left. We laughed about his bouts of silence in the elevator. I watched some BBC, then had dinner. Nigel came up to me while I was eating, with his trusty bowl o’plenty and recounted how he had fallen upstairs on his way to catch a train and that’s what had started his water-on-the-knees problem. Not particularly conversation I wanted to hear at dinner, but I was used to it from my registered nurse parents. Erin showed up and told me about the kids, her other classes, and also that Feng Jao Li had flagged her down outside the arts building and asked her about me. “She said, ‘Are you and David…’ and then she made a face. I said, ‘No, we’re just friends.’ Then she asked if you had a girlfriend and I told her no. I asked, ‘Why? Do you think he’s cute? Do you think he’s a….. beautiful boy?’” I couldn’t believe this. I thought I would be the first one to ask about her! I headed to my flat, popped a piece of gum and headed over to the arts building. One of the other teachers saw me, rattled off some Chinese. I shrugged. “Feng Jao Li?” I asked. She led me to her in a classroom, cutting out Chinese characters with an exacto knife. I felt like everyone was staring and that everyone knew we dug each other. What could I say? She asked if I had eaten dinner and I said yes. She asked if I wanted to play the piano. “It’s ok?” She nodded. So I went back and played piano with her friend watching. Feng JaoLi stopped by and I asked her what she was doing after dinner and she made a sleep pantomime. She told me in Chinese to turn out the light before I went, and then zipped out the door with a promise of seeing each other tomorrow. I played a few songs, then shut the light and returned to my flat. I ate some cucumber chips, drank a couple Tsingtao beer and laughed my ass off at some short films on ifilm/viralvideo. I took a walk, since I hadn’t seen the campus at night yet. There were some interesting light pillars, almost Vegasy dotting the walkways near the junior block. Then I returned to my flat and fell asleep, my heart cushioned by fancy.