October 23rd: Saturday in the park

Day 36

Woke around 11am, threw on some clothes and sunglasses, languidly shuffled to the dining hall for spicy tofu, eggs, and ever-present rice.

I blogged, went to make myself a mochaccino, and realized I was out of water. I tookthe empty jug down the hall, but there were only other empty jugs.

I walked over to the sports field where a couple guys were playing basketball, but by the time I got there, the balls had been locked away. For the best, I should have been tracking down water, not participating in something that would dehydrate me further. Walking by the primary school, I ran into Eva, asked her if she and some of the other English teachers wanted to join us for coffee this evening. She said she had no plans, but that she would confer with the others and call us if so. This has come to mean “no” so I didn’t hold out much hope. I played piano for a bit, but my voice was rough. I still needed water!

I wandered around the junior block hoping to snag a full jug from one of the offices, but they were locked. I ended up just taking the one from the kitchen down the hall next to the nurse’s office.

The sun was shining, so Erin and I rode out to the park along the river with the neon palm trees. On the way out the gate, the guard hailed me, handed me a letter, (another from Jenn) with enclosed pictures of a beautiful azure sky over the Roanaoke. She’s the best.

In the park, three ladies were doing tai chi, with an older man following suit some distance behind them. An old man with freakishly long arms was marching to and fro, clapping his hands behind and in front of him, grinning like he just scaled the fence of the institute.

armswinger

Some people sat on the benches overlooking the river, others attended children, helping them ascend fake tree stump chess tables.

I practiced poi for a couple minutes, still not able to master the reverse weave.

Not a minute after I cracked my book, a young guy wandered up wanting to practice his English. We found out his English name is Peter, that he’s leaving to work on a cruise ship in California next month as a laundry attendant and he’s very excited. We asked him where to get dumplings, but neither the English word, nor our crude illustrations brought clarity.

The sun began to set and a slight chill set in, so we left and got dinner at the hotel. On the way we passed the wee man and I wanted to get my picture taken with him but I didn’t want people to think I was degrading him. (Although I think a bigger degradation is pretending he doesn’t exist.)

Erin got her usual veggie pizza, and I decided to try the “hamburger with steak and cheese.” What came out was a pork loin sandwich and the cheese was there only in spirit.

A trio of people nearby had an aggravating cell phone (a looped sample of video-game quality drum-n-bass) that kept ringing. No one at the table bothered to answer it, nor turn it off or set it to vibrate. Bad etiquette. I put my book down in disgust and glared at them with as much American contempt I could muster.

After dinner I killed both boxes of the gourmet Pocky (almond crush: dark chocolate and strawberry tea), blogged, had a beer. Erin was stricken with three bouts of narcolepsy. After the third time, we went to the club. I took my CD case and arrived a few minutes before the “raffle break.” The guy put on a CD of Eagles’ “Hotel California” and then Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” I couldn’t stick around for that.

I watched the raffle for a bit, explored the rooms upstairs (nothing unsavory, just families, but there were couches and the option of a closed curtain) then went back in and I asked the MC if I could throw on some hiphop. He gestured yes and I whipped out Grand Buffet, Unkle w/ Mike D, Beck, and MC Paul Barman, then Johnny took over and switched directly to trance.

I danced for a bit, but my leg started hurting again. I don’t know if it’s a muscle or the bone (it feels internal) but I may have pushed the physical limits of my left shin. I danced more with my upper body, kept my legs stationary.

Erin dragged me out to the main area, there was a midget belting out some song and striking rock star poses.

midget

I tried to get some pictures, but the flash was swallowed by people in the foreground. I circled around trying to get the best vantage point and I ran into Andy.

“This guy’s great!” I shouted.

“I will take a picture of you,” he offered, “on the stage.”

The little man, who is incredibly muscular, finished his set and I snapped a pic as he stepped offstage, then Andy got one of the two of us.

up close


aaron (left) and midget

Erin told me I had missed when he was balancing a chair on his chin. What a cool ass guy. I wonder if he knows any English.

Back in the dance area, I jumped on the mic for the last couple minutes, parlez’d some Chuck D over the throbbing kick drum. A thin striking woman came up to the stage, collected a stuffed animal snake and left. The MC leaned over and said “My wife.”

I pointed, raised my eyebrows. He nodded.

“Beautiful wife,” I said. He grinned. How old was he? He didn’t look over 20.

The lights went up, the staff started sweeping up, and Erin and I rode home, discussing dumplings and a girl who danced onstage tonight who had to be a stripper. There’s a fluid, but insincere flow that all strippers have, a contrived “relaxed” sexiness sprinkled with hairtosses and bending, and she had buckets of it.

Weird noises were coming out of the KTV (karaoke television) bar at the hotel when we rode by. Not as weird as the first time we passed it, which sounded like Eyes Wide Shut chanting, but a sound like an odd tone-deaf Chinese Elvis at his most inebriated state. We vowed to go there sometime.

I blogged, had Motrin, sipped water, eventually entrusted my head to the bosom of pillowhood.