December 13th: penelope, Brazilians, and fellow white people

Day 87

Woke at 10:30 not feeling a hundred percent. Coffee, vitamin and water helped get my head straight. The internet was still not up. I wandered over to the computer office and my dude was playing 1941 on the computer. I asked about the internet and he said "tomorrow." I guess the high score comes first.

By noon, I rode out to Dongzhou park for some reading. The sun felt good and I was able to get in most of a chapter before I was hailed by some curious older gentleman who insisted on writing characters in the dirt and questioning me. "Ti bu dong," I kept repeating, a catch-all phrase for "I don't know" and "I don't understand." He was relentless. I eventually got up when he had gathered four youths also and sent one of them off with a piece of paper to find someone who knew more English.

I walked on, upset my reading time had been interrupted. I passed a girl in a yellow coat and as she went by she stopped, said, "Oh, wait." She handed me a piece of paper that read: "Can I make a friend with you?" It was so heartwrenchingly cute I wanted to cry. Permanent kindergarten. "Yes, yes!" I said.

I found out she was a student interested in teaching English. She is going to university in Australia next year. I gave her the English name Penelope. We walked around the park for a while, talking, taking pictures and such. I pedaled her to the button shop, but the chap still had no new buttons. I bought one with a letter P on it, gave it to my new friend, said, "It's P for Penelope." She grinned.

I pedaled her back to the park, she gave me her phone number. I told her I wanted to take her to dinner some time.

"Ok, I love you. You are my friend," I said."Zai jian." This place is rubbing off on me, it's addictive. China is like cuddly rave culture without the E.

I planned on taking a nap so I could have energy for the club and party later on, but when I went to drop off some candy to Erin's office bowl, Eva informed me I was going to the Brazilian dance show tonight. So much for the nap.

When I went to the front gate to check if any packages had arrived, one had, for Erin. I think it's worse to lug back a box not for you than to simply go empty-handed. I took a shower, shaved my cheeks and neck. Erin and I waited at the gate for the primary English teachers, of which Eva and Sunny came out. Feng Jao Li was going, too, and she rode on the back of my bike. She had Eva translate for her and I was informed she just had dinner and she was "actually heavy."

"Great, " I said, "You couldn't be theoretically heavy."



I worried about my back tire the way there and had a new respect for Suzhou's pedicab drivers. My thighs were fairly burning when we got to the theater. We had no idea what to expect from the show other than they were Brazilian dancers and the ticket had photos of women in showgirl type costumes. The music teacher and her daughter Lily arrived, and then Sunny and Eva departed saying there were no more tickets. Strange.


The show: mostly dance numbers with flashy costumes, some barely there. A few moments definitely did not reflect China's moral standards and were not for kids. I would not have been surprised had a police garrison broken in to stop the "depravity." Some of the silliness was outright emasculating for the guys, twirling umbrellas with sequined straw hats, or limbs bedecked in dayglow ruffles, grinning like they just got out of Bible school.


My personal tastes aside, the show was marred by a few things: First, the backing music skipped or cut out altogether at times, leaving the dancers helpless for a couple seconds. Second, the Chinese audience rationed their applause or saved it altogether. The dancers, accustomed to double bows, were often taking their second bow to cricketsong. Erin and I tried to pick up the slack, but there's only so much two may gua hren can do. Several moments were so painful I wanted to shout apologies on behalf of the Haimenites.On top of that, the show seemed longer than the Oscars. A big routine where audience members got onstage with the dancers was not the finale, merely the halfway mark.


That being said, the night did contain two bellydancing routines that were excellent. And to my delight, there was a poi routine where they actually struck the balls on the floor rhythmically, so it was like poi/tapdance fusion. Crazymad skills, these two guys. Feng Jao Li was pulled onstage and one guy poi'd around her, flipping her hair with one of the swinging balls while she stood and gritted her teeth like a five year old. Next, I was pulled onstage and had a cigarette clipped from my mouth by a poi. I think the bellydancers and the poi chaps should leave the company and start their own thing.

The show finally ended with huge feather ensembles, showgirl headdress zeal, and my poi dude in Napoleanic pimp majesty. But it still wasn't over. The black woman of the cast came out after that to sing two songs in Chinese, which the crowd finally let loose with a damburst of applause. I turned to Erin, anunciated over the din, "Eth-no-cen-tric."

After the show I wanted to go and gladhand the cast a bit, try to make amends for the audience's stoicism. Feng Jao Li pouted and stomped, kept pointing to the door. I pleaded with her and was eventually granted a minute. She really is a child. One time during the show I noticed that a few children were watching the spinning lights on the ceiling instead of what was onstage. Feng Jao Li was, too, with the same look on her face as Lily.

I went backstage, sought out my poi dude, shook his hand, thanked him. He looked a little unsure, so I switched to Spanish. "Muchas gracias por la performancia. Excelente! Muy bien!"

"Hablas espanol?"

"Si, yo estudie en escuela y colegio por siete anos. Estoy un profesor de ingles en este ciudad. You stay here tonight,en hotel?"

He shook his head.

They were bussing it to the next place on the tour. So much for taking them to the club. I got my picture taken with him in that stylin' ass suit, gave a final "gracias" to whomever was in earshot and returned to the other side of the curtain.

We pedaled home and Feng Jao Li was making fun of my hat.

"It's ugly?" I asked.

"No, just (Chinese) nigga nigga, it's 'no is beautiful.' Is no beautiful."

"Not ugly, but not beautiful. Great. It's in a state of suspended animation in its own mediocrity. I don't think I have a crush on her anymore."


I had just enough time to change clothes and head to the club, having told Lindsey I would be there around 10:30. I noticed the internet was back up, good news there, but almost made myself late browsing email stuff. I got to the club five minutes before the floor show started. Alen and I sat at the back with Zhang Shang toasting to everything and nothing. Sisi and her friend "Jen" joined us and suddenly a bottle of red wine and two can of Sprite were poured in a pitcher (Chinese sangria). I kept watching the entryway for American faces.

Two girls across the way were looking over, then coyly giggling behind hands when I looked back and waved. I beckoned them over, but they shook their heads and giggled some more, eyes disappearing into their cheeks. Alen waved them over, pulled up a couple chairs. They spoke a little English and I was going to give them the English names April and Joy, when we all got up to go to the upstairs party room. Mao tatt was up there, as were several others I didn't know. We sat for a minute, then there was a mass exodus. April and Joy went to the WC. Alen and Mao tatt went who-knows-where, and I was left with a couple dodgy looking gents. I emptied my glass, went downstairs to see if Lindsey and company had arrived and nearly ran into them coming down the stairs.

"May gua hren! May gua hren!" I bellowed, ushered them upstairs after some introductions to Sisi and Alen. The party room was in full effect now. The people had returned, pitchers of Reeb appeared out of nowhere (which I didn't touch), and Alen put the Goldfrapp remixes on the hifi. Elena stayed home to do knitting, so it was Lindsey, Mike, and Heather for the American contingent. Their "Nigel", a kiwi named Andrew, was there too. We swapped stories, toasted, became immediate friends. Mike tried to get me to yank his finger because he suspected it was dislocated.

"Dude, I just met you," I joked, "I'm not trying to pull your finger."

Alen beckoned me over to the mic, so I freestyled some stuff for a minute, mostly "You don't know what I'm sayin'! I'm sayin' stuff and you don't know what I'm sayin'!" April and Joy had returned from the WC and April was taking liberties with her hand and my thigh. Then she and Joy went down to the dance floor and I didn't see them again.

Mike was playing a dice drinking game with Zhang Shang and getting more Texan with each beer. He cried out in frustration that Zhang Shang was really good at it and his peers told him you can't be 'good' at a game of chance.

We got Mao tatt to floss the Mao tattoo after much cajoling. Angela sang some stuff on the KTV unit and when Alen reappeared, the club was closed already. Time flew by.

We the Anglo Saxon mob went in search of "nourishment" at a tent place they frequented. Mike and Heather played a game of stepping on each other's shadows. "JM Barrie's skeleton is smiling," I said.

I saw a firecrcaker stand was still open and we decided to let some off. A six pack of what looked like roman candle tubes were procured and Mike lit the fuse on one in the street. No colors, no bright lights, just two super loud explosions: the thrusting pop and the airborne report. It set off a nearby car alarm which made us laugh even harder. Some people in apartments above the firecracker stand were cursing us in Chinese, and granted, we were being drunk assholes, but in another sense, living above a firecracker stand you'd think they would expect it, be more casual about it.

We ate some fried pumpkin cakes on a stick, some peanuts, some shredded potato. The plastic glasses issued for our BBoss beer were so pathetically flimsy, I breathed in and out of one so that it crumpled like a hyperventilator's bag. We talked about Moab, America, Texas, Bush, China, etc, then called it a night.

I pedaled back and left a note under Erin's door reading: Hey Rock Star. Had a late night. Could you knock and make sure I'm awake when you leave? Cheers, Mr. Willis.

Drank some provisionary water, slept.