October 31st: chinese halloween

Day 44

Woke groggily a half hour before lunch, BBC still on. Erin and I rode out to get her bike fixed, walking up the "lower east side" and arriving at a bike chap's two blocks before the one to which I was originally headed. He changed the rear tube, merely reinflated the front one. Erin paid him and we pressed on, eager to get to the park.

Her front tire went flat again, so we circled back and went to the closest new bike chap, who changed the tube and put on a new tire. While that business went on, I went across the street to a bakery and bought a roll with lemon glaze on it. To my surprise and delight, it was filled with bean paste. Huzzah!

With a new tire, we pedaled toward the park, stopping at an outdoor market to get two small watermelons to carve. The lady tried to not let us buy the small round one because it had gone bad, but we assured her we weren't going to eat it anyway, and she relented.

I gave Erin a tour of the park and at one point we were mobbed by high schoolers who wanted their picture taken with us. We posed for about five different people combinations, and then the photographer wanted one.

At a square overlooking the pond, we carved our melons into little jack o' lanterns, quietly observed by some confused youths. Nearby, a couple men started playing music. The first man produced an ehru (a two-stringed Chinese instrument, played upright like a cello, with a base body like a hollow croquet mallet.) It had a most interesting tone, similar to violin, but more rustic. I want to get one. The other man had a wooden fife which he accomplished some uncanny pitch bends with. I studied his hands to see how he did it, but it remains a mystery.

The clock was ticking, Erin was expecting a phone call from Matt at 4pm, so we rode out. As we turned the bend to the homestretch, Erin's rear tire looked funny. I told her to slow down. It looked like she had ridden over a piece of gum. She stopped and I saw that a tube aneurysm had creeped through a gash in the tire. Seconds later, the thing popped with a gunshot report and Erin's bike fell over like a dead horse. We both laughed about it. No one seemed to take notice. Surely the loud noise and falling bike should have at least made someone grab their chest and laugh nearby. (In class, the Edward Scissorhands picture was almost a case for smelling salts, after all) Nope. Nothing. Perhaps the prevalence of bicycles and their associated maladies in their society has made them immune. Perhaps even, they know the sounds and sights too well. (Blocks away at a card game: Bang! "Hmm. Rear tire of girl bicycle blow out. Bad patch job. She should demand her 2 yuen back.")

We walked back, ate some dinner, felt loagy, entertained the idea of flaking on the coffee date. Erin knocked on my door at five after 7.

"She called. Told us to hurry."

"I guess we'd better go."

I had the flash of brilliance to give my melon o' lantern to them. Since I made it, I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what to do with it. I didn't need two. We caught a cab from the hotel again, shrugging off Mr. 10 Quai. Fuck that guy. We are not greenhornes.

When we got there, the girl and guy were very excited to see us and gushingly led us to the swing seats upstairs. I gave them the melon o' lantern and we both talked about how hard it was to communicate. We gave dude an English name after much deliberation: Christopher. Her English name is Kelly. Chris and Kelly were too cute. We taught each other words, phrases, drank coffee. Chris said he would try to "hook me up" (a new phrase I taught him meaning "introduce me to a girl.") with one of his "many beautiful friends." Really funny. We thanked them, eager to hang out next weekend, and caught a cab back.

I set out the jack o' lantern again as the students filed past. Two boys returned and unloaded two apples, lychees, and a few candies into my hands. It was so nice I wanted to cry. Erin's melon 'o lantern sustained a critical concussion in the bike incident, so she pitched it.Steven came by, spoke to us briefly about Halloween and other festivals and such, then pedaled off into the night to do whatever Steven does nocturnally.

I blogged, ate a couple PB&J's, thought wistfully of Halloweens past: the farm party Jenn took me to where I stayed in Raoul Duke character the whole night; the time I was Edward Scissorhands in Moab and out back of Woody's Brandy held and aimed my general for me, my hands duct-taped and useless; the time in 8th grade when I made a Ghostbusters proton pack out of a cereal box and surgical tubing; the devil costume that I wore at a church party when I was 6. Ah, so many memories. Favorite holiday. If it were up to me, it would be a weeklong festival, like a Chinese holiday. So many costumes, so many parties. Each night could be a different sort of event. Monday, tricks, scares and pranks. Tuesday, the Beggars Night trick-or-treat business. Wednesday, a jack o' lantern and cider parade. Thursday, house parties with "bobbing for apples" and "blind man's bluff" games. Friday, a masquerade ball. Saturday, decorating cemeteries. Sunday, the grand culminating bonfire and fireworks finale. Wouldn't that be so much better? Next year, I will be Jack Sparrow from "Pirates of the Caribbean" unless I think of something to top it.