November 13th: rainy cabin fever

Day 57

Woke to the sound of Rose knocking on the door and repeating in her sweet timbre, "David, David." I leapt from bed saying, "Just a minute," trying to locate pants, mentally force my a.m. erection to subside, etc. I opened the door and she handed me a banded stack of bills.

"You are still sleeping, mm."

"Yes, I was." I shook the bills. "Thank you."

She went to Erin's door to knock and I shut my door, married the new stack of bills with the old, looked at the time: 11:30. Missed lunch. It was cold in the hall and I noticed outside it was raining, with no hint of letting up anytime soon.

Erin and I walked our umbrella'd selves up to the main gate, where depending on one's outlook, either luck or fate bestowed us a taxi. I sat in front, Erin in the back. "Ming Tien Coffee."

My dude started the meter and started speaking to me in Chinese. I told him I only spoke a little, but this did not stay his tongue. he prattled on in between clearing the windshield of its fog. I answered in English as if I knew what the hell he was on about.

He: "(Chinese syllables)."
Me: "Constantly. All the time."
He: "(Chinese syllables)."
Me: "No argument here, buddy. You just tell 'em."

We stepped out at Ming Tien with pockets 7 yuen lighter. We sat up at the comfy orange couch section. I was famished, having expended quite an amount of energy the night before, so I ordered a steak dinner. The girl asked me something and I shrugged. She went away and moments later an official-looking woman marched over and thrust a cell phone at Erin. She took it curiously and said:

"Hello?... Hi... From America....No, in Haimen.....The experimental school....What?....Oh...(to me) How do you want your steak cooked?"

"Medium rare."

"Medium rare....Ok....Oh. (to me) What kind of sauce do you want?"

I shrugged. "Mushroom?"

"Mushroom sauce. (to me) Do you want spaghetti or french fries?"

"French fries."

"French fries.....Right...Ok..I don't know my number but my email address is (spelled her email address). Yes......Ok.....Bye."

She handed the phone back to the lady and the lady and our girl went away.

"Who the hell was that on the phone?"

Erin shrugged. "Some guy named Jack from Nantong. He wants to introduce us to some more Americans."

steak lunch at ming tien

The girl brought me a glass of red wine (complimentary with the steak dinner) in a martini glass. It had a piece of lemon in it. A bowl of soup and a hard roll arrived, as well as my fries. Erin had ordered a basket of fries and strawberry "toast" which is actually a big brick of cake. the icing on it spelled "Love."

erin's "toast" has "love" spelled in icing

For a culture all into maudlin sentiment, you'd think they would exhibit some courtesy to match it, but no, we get dudes trying to cut in line at the grocery with their bananas, cars cutting off everybody, shoving in makeshift queues, etc.

The steak arrived and it was not medium rare, it was seared. As Dennis Miller said in Bordello of Blood, "Hey, you wanna throw a Bic lighter under that steak there? For Christ's sake, it's still mooing." I sent it back and a minute later the cell phone was put in my face.

Me: "Hello."
Nantong Jack: "How did you want your steak cooked?"
Me: "Medium."
NJ: "Ah. Half-cooked?"
Me: "Uh, medium."
NJ: "Okay. Now I talk to the girl again."

I handed the phone back and my steak came minutes later, slightly more cooked than last time. I shrugged, ate it. It was tasty. I finished all my meal and the rest of Erin's fries. I was famished.
I went up to play the piano, the sustain pedal functioning this time, to my delight. To my disgust, they kept the house music on which means I had to concentrate on blocking out Whitney Houston and Richard Marx. Ugh. I played the new song, a few others, gave up when the music not only remained on, but switched to a dance pop station.

I returned to the table, read some James Joyce, reclined with my eyes closed for a but, but failed to achieve the desired meditative state. We paid, grabbed a cab back which was driven by a woman and I shared the backseat with her son, a sulllen 5 year old with tear-stained cheeks. I tried to engage him in conversation but he just stared and frowned.

Erin skipped dinner, so I went alone, sat with Dozen and another teacher. The dining hall was freezing.

"You should have more clothes on," Dozen remarked.

"Yeah. I don't like the cold."

"I like the cold," he said. "Because I have a lot of fat. When it's warm I do not like it."

"I need more fat."

"You can take some of mine" he joked.

He and the other teacher insisted I visit Yellow Mountain which is an hour flight but a ten hour bus ride. We talked about America, travel, China's bigness.

After dinner, the rain had gotten worse, but we were out of wine, so I braved the precipitation to the mom-n-pop place, got a bottle of red and a bottle of white. The casino machine was up front this time and I saw it had a ninja turtle graphic on the front. A few kids stared at my rain-soaked self and I smiled, said "Zai Jian" and pedaled off into the night.

Erin and I played cards and listened to hip hop. Erin's wine was bunk. It was cheap candywine like mine, but it smelled like graham crackers. She braved only a couple sips, then tossed it.
We laughed, made plans to do KTV tomorrow even if it was just us, came up with the term "worthworthy" and laughed ourselves silly, mutually retired. Our heaters are now on so it's nice and toasty.