More photos below....

I uploaded Aaron's most recent photos below. I think I've found a nice style of doing so.

14th day: clubbin' and connection makin'

September 30th, 14th day (I’ve been here a fortnight!)

Slept until a half hour before my first class. My eyes are half open when I sleep, so whatever I look at becomes part of my dream, however mutated. I had a Weezer banner that used to make a cameo in my dreams every night for two months until I moved it.
Last night I had fallen asleep looking at my hand, and the bunched-up fingers became this peeled-eyed slug creature that was someone’s sister. David Cronenberg could use it in his next film. So I had to interact with it to use the shower and it kept staring at me in that emotionless yet sickeningly angry slug creature way, but I couldn’t beat it to death with a rake because it was dude’s sister. Didn’t get very good sleep.
I only taught three classes. The fourth was cancelled so the students could start their week long holiday. An audience of Chinese parents was gathered at the door and windows of my third class. I kept trying to get them to interact, but I don’t think they knew English. I put a ban on any kind of “play sports” answer yet again, because it’s a cop-out and then everyone in the row gives some variation of it.
Checked email, ate bisquits for a bit as the student exodus filed past my window. Dinner was prepared by one man with a great big smile, who held up his palm to indicate five more minutes was needed before dinner was ready. But five minutes to him was fifteen minutes on a typical clock.
The campus is like a ghost town without the kids. It’s a little eerie. It seems like an outpost beyond the reach of the zombies now.
Erin and I decided to go into town tonight and check out that club proper.

Erin in situ at Coffee Language

McDeviltoast in situ at Coffee Language

We rode our bikes to the hotel, then caught a cab to Coffee Language for our complimentary cup of coffee and two baskets of fries. We could have just split a basket, but I thought they were going to give me a piddly amount like what came with my company sandwich.

You want fires with that?

At the urging of both the resident piano player and Erin, I played three songs: “Steady,” “At the In Between,” and “Favorite Witness.” I’ve really come a long way as far as performing. I didn’t miss a note and could have sung, too if the mic had been plugged in.
Next, we went to the club and were ushered to a table ringside of some odd raffle game.

weird raffle

A long-haired emcee rattled off Chinese and then some bomb noises piped in and he or his henchmen would hand out stuffed animals to people in the crowd.

more weird raffle

This went on for about fifteen minutes. The staff of the club wore these matching Garfield T-shirts as their uniform. One took our order and we luckily ordered two Tsingtaos. The manager, a young guy named Andy sat by us and asked us where we were from and such. We gave him the lowdown and he said his club was everyone’s favorite, mainly because he spoke English.
I asked if there was a dance floor and he motioned it was in the back, and that after the game was over, he would show us.
“Do you ever have guest DJ’s?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I’m a DJ. Do you use CD turntables or vinyl turntables?”
“CD.”
“I’ve got all my stuff with me in China. Could I spin here sometime?”
He said yes and we worked out that I would come there at 8:30 tomorrow to set up. My first international DJ gig! Hot damn!

Sonny & Cher

After the game, some odd “Sonny and Cher” type deal with back-up fan dancers came out. Luckily, when they got into their “capping on each other” schtick, Andy motioned us into the back.

Sonny & Cher's fan dancers

Around a corner and down a low-ceilinged hallway, we arrived at a circular dance area, with tables along the outer rim, and an upper deck with tables overlooking the dance floor. I was impressed.

Chinese club kids

The lights were pretty elaborate. I’d say it is on par with Vertigo or the Warehouse. I got to go onstage, investigate the equipment, which looked pretty standard, and then I just basked in the madness of it all. The DJ spun a lot of cheese house trance, some in English with sometimes very naughty language (“motherfucking slut” was dropped in one chorus like nothing).

more Chinese club kids

I started formulating a set in my head immediately. After another Tsingtao, we took off, as the club closed abruptly at ten to midnight. Perhaps just a weekday thing, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. As we got in the cab, a carload of dancefloor people hailed us,but the only English they knew was hello. For all I know they could have been inviting us to an afterparty.
Erin and I rode back laughing, amazed at how cool a spot we had discovered. It opened up new possibilities in Haimen City for the break and beyond. I can’t wait to drop my DJ shit on ‘em tomorrow night.

Martha Stewart Going to W.Va. Prison

Actually, this is pretty cool, too: Martha Stewart Going to W.Va. Prison

Screw her.

Shatner 'Invasion'

This, my friends, looks awesome. Here's some of the article:

Shatner and a crew of producers, writers and actors spent more than a year planning the hoax, which involved a fake sci-fi time-travel feature titled "Invasion Iowa" that Shatner purportedly wrote, directed, produced and starred in.

The cast and crew spent 10 days shooting on location in the small town of Riverside, Iowa, where several local residents were hired to be cast and crew members but unwittingly became the stars of the new reality series. During the shoot, Shatner played the role of an increasingly over-the-top version of himself.

one good thing about my birthday

turning 30 on sunday means that my car insurance dropped $500 annually.

nice.

more pics from China

Aaron's staple foods:



"yeah, darby! get it, son!"

reasons for the beard

so i grew a beard before i came to china because i wanted to look older (and therefore more professional) as it turns out, there is no shaving cream in china. i've been using soap. anyway, i've decided to let it grow for my entire stint here, 9 whole months. i'll send a pic a month checking the progress. i imagine i'll look quite burly when i return in july. fun with faces!

13th day, sore throats and frustration

September 29th, 13th day

Missed breakfast again today! Will I ever have the bean paste rolls again? I got to chat with Meghann for a while online today. We talked about travel, Moab gossip and such. I miss her.
Classes went smoothly, although I was almost late from fooling about online. Again, some of the kids didn’t quite comprehend what I was asking and I had to ban the “play football/computer games/sports” comment. In Steven’s class, no one spoke English except when they repeated the word I had written on the board. Steven translated their comments for me. The last class I taught, the teacher lurked in the window for some for the time and I included him in the question/answer part:
“And what makes YOU feel happy?”
He gave a big grin and said, “When you teach my class for me.”
When I do “scared,” I scream to illustrate the feeling and to get their energy up. Usually they will hold their chest in mock-cardiac arrest and laugh. Today, a kid cold fell out of his chair, twice. That’s some power.
My voice is a little hoarse after two days of screaming “scared” and “angry.”
Erin and I pedaled into town for beer, chocolaty goodness (Erin’s PMSing), and hangers. I felt myself feeling very irritable and pugilistic. The lack of queueing, the oblivious nature of the traffic, the hurried shoving at the checkout line, it all added up and I felt close to losing it. Maybe Erin’s the alpha female and I’m aligning to her cycle.
I played piano for a while, belted out “Sulk” pretty good for being somewhat hoarse, and ran into Feng Jao Li exiting the building.
“How are you?” I asked.
She said something in Chinese, gestured to her throat and head. Her voice had a Kathleen Turner chain smoker timbre.
“Oh, you’re sick?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry. You should take a very hot shower.”
Puzzled look.
I tapped my forehead like she does. “Get well soon.”
Puzzled look.
I sighed. “Good night.”
“Goodbye” she said.
Damn this frustrating language barrier! I like to think one of my most agreeable traits is my capacity for verbal expression. It’s useless in this situation.
I watched more Australian crime drama. Then Erin came over and we watched a biography on Peter Sellers.
She turned in. I finished my journal entry, and vowed to be more patient tomorrow. This Friday, we have a week-off holiday for autumn festival. Erin and I are entertaining the idea of going up to Beijing and getting some pictures of Darby flipping in front of the Great Wall.

Double-A in PRC

Aaron sent me this moments ago:



Look at his big, bulbous arm! :)

Feng Jao Li's shirt

incidentally, her shirt in the pictures below says: "Hey ho, let's go." how cute is that?

would u like fires w/ that?

Hey Aaron! I'm on your blog now! It's like stalking you from a different time zone! I had some pretoasted toast the other day and you know what. . . . . . it was awsome! I also got a job at the CAC! Yay! I do such a great job of walking around in a galllery telling people "don't touch that" and "please control you children." My boss tells me that it's for the arts protection, but I just like being intimidating. Anyway, chow, chow!

Movies

stAllio mentioned that he's been in a big movie mode lately, and i have to say i've been the same way. i bought myself three dvds for my birthday this weekend, plus i saw Code 46 as well (though you shouldn't: just watch Brazil again instead).

he also mentioned that he's seeing A Dirty Shame tonight. i myself am going to see Napoleon Dynamite for the third (and final, until its dvd release) time tonight. Megan hasn't seen it, and since i keep talking about it, she wants to. Gabe's working the Esquire Theater tonight, so maybe we can save a couple bucks on it.

12th day: moons and cakes

September 28th, 12th day

Woke with some difficulty. I think the beer to water ratio wasn’t optimal before I fell asleep. Missed breakfast. This week’s lesson is feelings. I ran through a list of happy, sad, nervous, excited, sick, tired, bored, hungry, thirsty, scared, etc. After a brief description, I had each row tell me what made them feel whatever word I had written on the board. The junior 2 class did alright, although I think there’s a few kids in class who answer “play football” no matter what I ask.
Before the second class, Rose gave me a three packs of mooncakes filled with a green gel. I devoured them, found the taste a bit like pop tarts. In the next class, which Rose did not sit in this time, the kids were a little more behind. For example: “What makes you feel nervous?” “In the evening” or “at home.”
One girl, when asked what made her sad, answered, “When it’s my birthday and I get no presents.”
“Is it your birthday?”
She nodded.
I gave her a pack of mooncakes.
“Are you now feeling happy?”
She nodded, smiling. So cute.
Following class, I signed more autographs, a T-shirt, and was given a pen.
After lunch, which had a mooncake included, Nigel stopped by and inquired if Erin and I wanted to have dinner at Coffee Language. He also said tonight was the start of the Moon Festival, or the Harvest Moon, as we say in the states. That explained the sudden prevalence of all the mooncakes.
I chatted albeit briefly with David Enright, wished him a happy Harvest Moon, to which he corrected, “Jarvis Moon,” in reference to our Dung Chant album “Sun of Jarvis Moon.”
The other two classes went fine, although one class did not get to play the game because time ran out. A couple kids tried to stonewall me, but I kept at them, looming over them and basking in their silence, asking the same words over.
I went to the arts building to get some pictures of Feng Jao Li and she posed by the railing overlooking the pond. Super cute. I also took a picture of the Chinese “lapsteel harp” which I also played on for a bit.
Nigel, Chi, Erin and I rode to Coffee Language for dinner. My pedal started squeaking again and I swear the seat has sunk. My ass hurt good and proper by the time we got there.
I ordered a “company sandwich and fired (sic) potatoes.” For dessert I had bananas in a kind of floral honey, with lime ice cream.
While Chi and Erin talked about shopping and massage, Nigel told me the way to tell the massage parlors from the “handjob huts” was they said “hairdresser” on the outside, but had pink lights on the inside.
“In some places, you can lie with a girl,” he said, “Kind of play with her a bit…”
“Nigel, how the hell do you know about this?”
To which he put a finger to his lips and cringed, afraid Chi would hear our conversation.
I just laughed.




I took pictures of the place, knowing they wouldn’t do it justice, and then I was coerced to play a song on piano. I did an abridged version of “Steady” since it had a complicated left hand part, at least compared to most of my songs.
We stopped in the club next door just to see it, and we were practically shoved inside to a table. They really catered to Westerners and wanted people to see us in their club. We held up our hands apologetically, told them we were just looking. It had a kind of jungle motif, some sub-par murals of tigers and a nude couple with vines covering their naughty bits. There was some singer on the raised dance floor, composed of thick brick-style lights, a la Saturday Night Fever. I might go back there again just to have a laugh.
We rode back and I asked Chi to see how Feng Jao Li felt about me sometime. She said ok.
I had a sweet craving and punished the Junior Mints and a box of Milk Pocky, wishing I had some beer.
I uploaded the pictures, watched some documentary on slave girl trafficking, and then called it a night.

Trying to Identify the Instrument

I'm trying to figure out what that instrument is. So far, the best candidate is a guqin:



But then again, the guqin has seven strings, and the one in Aaron's pic has more than that.

Hey wait, check out the guzheng:



I think we have a winner!

McDeviltoast Pics

Ok, Aaron sent me some pics. Here they are:
First, the Chinese harp-like instrument:


Now, the lovely(!) Feng Jao Li:



There you go. Hopefully he'll send more with his fancy bargain camera. :)

Forbidden Zone

Yesterday (09/26) was my birthday, and as part of my birthday gift to myself, I bought the newly-released dvd of Forbidden Zone, Richard Elfman's masterpiece of film. There's been a ton written about it already, but I'm now watching the dvd, and it's really well done. The comentary was typical of commentaries done years after a film: a lot of reminiscing and marveling over what they'd done, and not a lot of details. It's still entertaining, though.

The documentary is neat; it has interview footage with Danny Elfman, Matthew Bright, and Marie-Pascale Elfman (though she's divorced from Richard Elfman now, so I'm not sure what her surname is).

Pick it up. It's quite good.

Blech, Vol. 2

So, in trying to figure out where Aphex Twin's track "Laughable Butane Bob" came from (Hangable Auto Bulb, it turns out), I discovered a cool-looking dj mix called Blech, Vol. 2, which was mixed by DJ Food (two guys, not one, as you might think).

As the British electronic music scene emerged from the vapor-rub haze of the rave movement, the need to push forward musical boundaries became of paramount importance. This CD represents the coming together of two of electronic music's most influential, experimental, and seminal labels. PC and Strictly Kev (better known as Ninja Tune artist DJ Food) mixed this Warp Records compilation, brilliantly building a classic Ninja Tune sample-heavy mix, only constructed out of the abstract, left-field fare that is Warps bread and butter. Moving deftly from the traditional IDM sound to more blunted trip-hop fare and hyperactive breaks culture, the mix is held together by a myriad of scratches and film samples that augment but never overshadow the records on hand. All of the usual suspects are in abundance, with tracks by Autechre and Aphex Twin taking up ten of the 31 records included. Also present are IDM favorites Mira Calix, Squarepusher, and Mike Paradinas, under his Jake Slazenger guise. The unreleased mix of Plaid's "Abla Eedio," with its rotating percussion given much more slapping power than the album version, makes this CD worth the purchase price alone. For the cultish hordes who savor every Warp release, Blech puts these classic pieces of experimental electronica in a context as adventurous as the original pieces of music. Those less experienced should find themselves scouring over the intricate liner notes (produced by those pillars of '90s aesthetic, the Designers Republic) to find out who created these sonic explorations from the crucible of mid-'90s post-rave culture.

11th day

September 27, 11th day

This morning Erin and I were whisked away by Rose to have our physicals. It was a scene reminiscent of Gilliam’s Brazil: queues of people in tight corridors all holding some manner of paperwork, all clamoring to be the first seen.
Blood was drawn first, followed by blood pressure, and an ECG, which was a kind of interrogation set-up: metal clamp on wrist and ankle, awkward cups and hoses stuck to the chest. At least I didn’t have to worry about them grilling me if I was a member of the communist party (Obvious footnote: China is communist) Next, an eye exam, an ultrasound, and a long wait for the X-ray. It was a little unsettling to see people’s blood-draw cotton swabs littering the floor of the hall.
The X-ray consisted of smashing myself against the barrier, with wrists down by my kidneys. A little too firing squad for my taste.
After the whole ordeal, Rose took us to lunch at a restaurant across the street from Tien Mein Coffee Language. Heaping bowls of food kept coming. And coming. And coming. And coming. The last time I saw a spread of that multitude was in Mesquite, Nevada when Bruce, Brandy and I gorged ourselves on the seafood buffet and Bruce, surrounded by bones and shells, decreed over the slot machine noise: “I’m Wolfman the magic shepherd!”
Rose dubbed Erin “Sheep” because she only ate vegetables. I tore into the prawns with the zeal and technique of a Westerner, abandoning chopsticks for good old fingers. I cared not what Rose and the driver thought of me, I was starving. A crab came out, which I have never really eaten. Lobster is as close as I came to that, and even then I had a cracking tools. Rose expected me to just chomp the shell off as they were doing. I couldn’t get into it. It looked like the Predator’s vagina.
The driver disassembled it for me and put the parts I should eat into a little bowl. Thus, Rose dubbed me “Baby.” Baby and Sheep. I tried the red and yellow mush that was once the crab’s noggin and found the taste and texture agreeable. Similar to an omelet.
I finished with a moon cake and washed it down with Pepsi, the first cola I’ve had in maybe a year. I still think it tastes like carbonated cough syrup.
I was determined to be productive after a harrowing morning and terrifying lunch, so I rode into town and got my bike fixed. I had the guy raise my seat and adjust my pedal.It set me back 1 yuen. Next, I rode to the bank to convert more currency, receiving 2050 yuen for $250 USD. Not too shabby.
I pedaled over to the place that had the Kodak digital camera and bought it, trusting they had English instructions. Next I stopped by my dude at the electronics store (we’re old chums, now) and pointed at my watch.
“New battery,” I said as I tapped the face.
He examined it, then told me to sit in his chair while he got another gentleman two stores down. This gentleman took my watch and pried at it with a couple tools before saying something in Chinese to my dude. My dude had me follow him to the next block and I arrived at a watch stand.
The guy put in a new battery and I put 15 yuen on his counter. I walked back past my dude and gestured toward the watch, gave him the thumbs up. He returned the gesture, smiled.
I then headed to the grocery for AAA batteries so I could turn on my air conditioning without pestering Nigel or Erin. I entertained the idea of getting my hair cut (the back is a bit wooly and I’ve got little wisps about the ears that could use trimming) but I heard George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” emanating from within and that killed my haircut hard-on.
I pedaled home, put on some Grandaddy, learned about my new camera, took test shots, tried out the video option, then went to an underwhelming dinner. Nigel advised us to take Chi with us whenever we go shopping because there’s a Chinese price and a foreigner price. I told him the deal we got on the woofers, and I wondered if the price of the camera could have come down any.
I ate Pretz and chatted online with my cousin Sara, discussed the possibility of attending cousin Tesa’s wedding if winter break coincided just right. Then I dashed off to see if I could capture Feng Jao Li’s lovely visage on pixilated canvas. Alas, she was not at the arts building.
I came back to the flat, wrote in my journal, had Pocky and beer, and watched BBC World (who emailed back and claimed their was no censorship of the Tim Robbins Hardtalk Extra, and no one {does that include me?} has reported a lack of audio for the programme) Steve, AKA Montana, emailed me an audio Chinese tutorial. I will be fluent in no time! Finished my beer, called it a night.

ok, so all is go now

i guess montana ironed out the whatnot that was preventing me from posting, so i'll be putting my journal entries here, as well as any items i skim off my random brain cream. i should have a digital camera by today so i'll start posting pics soon, too! almond pocky is the new favorite.

September 26th, 10th day

more Aaron stuff, still.

Woke up to not having power. At first I thought I shorted out my room from my woofer, but the power was out everywhere, due to return, according to Nigel, at 6pm. I went batshit in my place. Couldn’t email, couldn’t write, couldn’t watch telly, couldn’t listen to music, and the arts building was locked, so I couldn’t even play piano.
I wandered around the sports field a bit, hoping some rogue basketball hadn’t been locked away, but no avail. I hackeysacked by myself for a while, then returned to my room and read.
Erin and I went into town, and I picked up my pictures. Man, did I look old and tired. Before I left, I was a wreck and it showed on my face. Some fun pics,but it’s obvious I got no rest. We swung by the electronics place and got the same model woofer for Erin. A different gent was there, testing a microphone and blasting some rave music. He gave Erin the “teacher discount” too.
One of the guys who observed me tying it to my bike yesterday saw us walk by and he held up two fingers, gave a quizzical look. I pointed at Erin, said, “This one’s for her.”
We rode back and deposited the woofer, waited in our rooms for the quasi-half day closing to be over. I’m suspicious of mandatory sanctioned naps.
After lunch, we rode back into town intent on finding a digital camera. We went into both grocery stores and I scored a Rolling Stones belt, with all the song titles misspelled: “Huby Tcusday, etc.” Hilarious.
Also saw some interesting school supplies: pencil boxes that read “Dony Pig,” “Violet Rat,” “Fell in Dedication,” and “My Mean is Garfield.”
We walked up the street past 20 hair salons (no exaggeration) and stopped in a few potential places. One had a Kodak digital camera for 1800 yuen. We’re going to stop by and grab them tomorrow.
My yellow bike’s seat is too low and hard, and one pedal crank needs to be tightened. I’m going to have it fixed tomorrow as well.
When we got back, I saw that the arts building was open, so I ducked in and played piano for a bit. Feng Jao Li showed and I ran back to change clothes. She and the other music teachers were singing opera and “O sole mio”, which Feng Jao Li said was “her song.”
It was dusk by the time we rode out, and when we got to the big hectic roundabout outside the grocery stores, Feng Jao Li lost the two guys we were following.
“Er… wait here while I’m look,” she said, and took off on her scooter. She returned a few minutes later and had us follow her across the street to the restaurant.
It was a nice place, lots of red and black décor, fountain and such, and we were led to a private room with a hot pad in the center of the table. Everyone took a seat and the two female music teachers teased Feng Jao Li to sit next to me, but she sat on the other side of Erin.
Food was ordered and we explained that Erin didn’t eat meat, no not even fish. In short time, a stew was brought out and placed on the pad. The woman music teacher sitting next to me with the cute little girl, touched the controls to on, and soon a torrent of bubbles joined the stew party.
The stew had fish, and I tried some, but there were bones, which I cannot abide. A cart was wheeled in and plates consumed the table space: cucumber rods, sesame cake, raw meats, lettuce, seasoned peanuts, edamame, some odd tall-stemmed mushrooms with hardly any cap, potato slices, etc. One by one they were dumped into the pot. Across the table they had a clear dish with a lid, inside which were some grey squirming beings I couldn’t immediately identify. My facial expression probably told them I wasn’t interested in them.
We shared the stew, telling each other what the names were in English, and they in turn would give us the Chinese name, laughing at our pronunciation.
Beer came and it was good courage juice. The squirming had ended in the dish and the bodies were dumped in. Familiar things floated to the surface. They were prawns. I still didn’t eat them. The whole face/antennae/legs combo just wasn’t appetizing.
I was worried about table etiquette, but everyone was letting bones drop out of their mouths, prawn heads and such, onto their discard plate. I’m sure Erin was more than a little nauseated.
Fruit rounded out the meal: pieces of melon, grapes and such, which allowed for more spitting something onto a plate.
The little girl requested we give her an English name and we decided on Lily. Feng Jao Li wanted one also and I thought “Julie” because it was so similar to “Jao Li.” I was given the Chinese name “Dao Wei,” which is as close to David as you can get.
Afterwards, we went to Coffee Language, an exquisite coffee bar, the likes of which one of the music teachers had a steady gig playing piano. The front of the place was a circular diner-type atmosphere, plush booths with a cascading water sheet down the windows. Beyond was an area of wicker swings, suspended from the ceiling, with fake vines down the support cords, an African breakfast scene mural looming on the wall. We sat there, closest to the baby grand piano, which rested on a circular piece of glass, over a fountain with black and white stones dotting the bottom and goldfish darting here and there around the water jets. Definitely my favorite place in Haimen City yet.
The teachers took turns playing piano, and pressured me to go up and play, despite assuring them that they were much more talented than I. Still, I played “At the In Between,” one of my own compositions, but didn’t sing (it would have been inappropriate) and it didn’t sound as amateur as I’d feared.
I had a mocha, which arrived in its own metal decanter and miniature mug, Erin had a latte, and the others had red tea. Lily was downing packets of sugar with a vengeance. Feng Jao Li kept her entertained by singing into a carnation.
We chatted with the piano player and (I think) his girlfriend, explained we were here for nine months, first time to China, from America, etc.
I used the bathroom and got a glimpse at the “squatting toilet,” which is kind of like a urinal in the floor. Thankfully I didn’t have need of it. The regular urinal sufficed, and then I almost ate shit coming out of the bathroom. The Chinese, for some reason, like to put little two inch high thresholds at every doorway. You can’t really see them, but man you can trip over the bastards.
The coffee shop has raised the bar on my expectations of Haimen City now. I can’t wait to see what the club is like.
We parted ways, Lily saying “bye bye” from her little bicycle seat as we pedaled off into the night. Feng Jao Li rode off when we got to the arts building and we thanked her for dinner and such. I’ve never even hugged her. It’s weird.
I typed in my journal, and Nigel stopped by, inquired about the evening and had some computer question. I gave him a copy of the picture of he and Chi at breakfast, thenhe retired. So did I shortly after.

September 25th, 9th day

more aaron stuff:

Woke later than usual today, and as a result, achieved REM for the first time in China. I had a dream where I had an idea for a general commercial for the desert. Long crane shot, with my voice-over: “The vastness, the beauty, the serenity, and the best part about the desert: no John Cougar Mellencamp. Now, ain’t THAT America!” I sent the pitch to Ridley Scott and he agreed to direct. We went over storyboards while he smoked cigars, set up the crane shot, but my stoner Moab friends, especially Jasper, kept getting in the frame as they walked over to the golf course for shenanigans. Second half of the dream was sitting with my parents outside (still in the desert) talking about my birthday tea party, correcting my father, “WIND in the Willows. WIND!” My old dog Campy was there, who’s long been dead, lying awkwardly on some stone steps. He was the best dog. And here he was, happy, wagging his tail, brown eyes peeking from his big black afro. I was helping him off the steps when a knock came at my door….
It was Erin. I had slept until 8:05 and we needed to leave for breakfast at the 5 star hotel on the corner. I hastily threw on some clothes, still hazy from the dream and we (Nigel, Chi, Erin and I) pedaled to the hotel.
It was a fabulous spread: eggs, toast, coffee, various cakes (including my new favorite bean paste ones), fruit, fraid (sic) potatoes, and then Chinese fare, some of which I couldn’t identify. The coffee was oddly cloudy, but tasted fantastic.
Nigel recounted how he had moved from the UK to Perth, Australia.
“Were you exiled?” I joked. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
“No, but most English have ancestry in Australia. Long ago, they would deport you for even minute offences. A ten year old, starving, would pinch a loaf of bread, and get shipped off.”
“Who’d a thunk you’d get deported for pinching a loaf?” I said in a Billy Zane voice.
Erin giggled. I think the phrase was lost on Nigel.
Nigel and Chi regaled us with tales of Singapore, Thailand, etc. How Chi, before she got her glasses would sometimes get on the wrong bus and end up lost. She’s a year younger than Erin. She made me guess her age and I thought it was 27. Erin had guessed 30.
“I’m very lucky,” Nigel said.
“I’m not lucky,” Chi pouted, elbowed Nigel. “With you, my age goes up up up.”
I stuffed myself with fruit, eggs, toast, and four cups of the tasty coffee. Their mugs were too small.
I went into town by myself to pick up the passport photos, which I didn’t have to pay for again, thankfully. I also dropped off my disposable camera to get developed.
Wandering around the streets, I happened upon the movie theater and the only film I recognized was “The Tuxedo” with Jackie Chan and Jennifer Love Hewitt. Ugh. I didn’t want to see THAT even in the states.
There was another camera shop and after a great deal of the staff dragging in people off the street with ascending English comprehension, I got them to let me see the English instructions for a digital camera. It seemed ok, and the lady wrote the price as 29 with two little zeroes, so I thought it was 29.00. Thinking I had scored the deal of the century, I had her ring it up, but she looked confused by my 100. The price was actually 2900. Deal done in by dastardly decimal point! I told them I needed more money, held up the index finger of “one momentness” and beat a hasty retreat out the door.
Inside a stationery store, I picked up a couple rolls of tape for Erin, since the substance evaded her last shopping trip.
Before I showered, I had listened to a couple mp3’s on Radiohead’s website, thus ending my recorded music fast and instilling a junkie-like craving to hear songs, but not on the uncomfortable and limited mobility headphones.
I went into a Chinese Radio Shack and explained to the clerk I just needed speakers, not a whole stereo. He directed me toward a row of woofers and such. One had two things I found agreeable: decent sound and small size. Then he asked, “Teacher?”
“Yes,” I said. “Haimen Experimental School. English teacher.”
He touched his chest, “Teacher, too.”
“Of?”
He thought a moment and started pantomiming writing numbers on his palm.
“Oh, math.”
Since we had established this magic teacher bond, he wanted to let the woofer go at 150 instead of 220. I couldn’t pass that up, being around $25 USD. He wrapped tape around it in a makeshift handle, then saw I had to ride it home and he came out, tied it to my rack with string. This attracted passersby. He told them I was American and they smiled at this. I pantomimed the wobbly ride I was in for, with this cardboard box riding behind me like my child.
I rode home easily and played my songs on it to christen it, then moved on to Beck’s “Sea Change.” Something I had done without for a week was now mind-bogglingly necessary. Strange how it switches like that.
I played piano for about an hour, then ate dinner. A boy in line asked me where I was from.
“America,” I said.
He nudged his friend as if the two were having some bet over it. Some of my students came up to me and said “Hi, Mr. Willis.” Two sat by me as I ate. They didn’t speak during gestation and they finished before I did. Just a “hello” when they sat and a “goodbye” as they left.
I chatted with Erin for a while, about our mutual wanderlust and how it affects our friend situation. I have an odd detachment in that realm. I miss my friends, but it’s more of an irritation that I can’t hang out with them rather than an “Oh, I’m so far away” deal. The only one I felt a harsh emotional pang about leaving was L.A. She’s halfway through her chemo and a part of me feels like I abandoned her, that I should have postponed until she was better. Plus, it seems like our friendship was really blossoming, moving past that “casual acquaintance” and into that circle of friends I call my “inner sanctum.”
Erin talked about how when she gets back, the kids in daycare will have aged 9 months and they won’t even know who she is. That’s gotta be rough.
I talked about how I have two core groups of friends, one in Ohio and one in Utah and I wish they could all be in the same area. Mostly Bruce, my brotha. Although, the desert is calling me back. The first dream I have in China and it’s about the desert. I am haunted by that place.
I went and played piano for another hour practicing my voice and simultaneous playing and singing. I think I’m confident enough now to play a show without a recorded backing track.
Erin and I went to the bar adjacent to the American breakfast buffet, and we were the only ones in there. I ordered a Jameson neat, since ice is taboo here, although they brought a dish of it out anyway with tongs. Being a five star hotel, it might have been kosher, but why risk it? Erin thought she had ordered a glass of wine, and they brought a bottle (another case of decimal point disaster): Great Wall Cabernet Sauvignon, from China Cereals, Oils and Foodstuffs.
We drank, discussed love, horror films, travel, tales of drunkenness and infidelity.
Then we swervingly pedaled home.
I checked email and heard the studio track that I had given to Abiyah. I was floored. Equally proud of both of us.

September 24th, 8th day

more of Aaron's blog. I wish he'd just use this. :)

Woke just before 6am. Checked email, ran and got a bowl of breakfast. The lunch ladies are starting to know what I like and they hold up two fingers when I point to the black bean rolls. I nod and they smile wider. I love these people.Tragedy struck when I got them back to the flat. One slipped out of my chopsticks onto the floor and I cursed, threw it away. Then I realized I wasn’t in view of anyone, why the hell was I using chopsticks? I could just pick the damn thing up! So I did with the other one, paranoid I had lost all my chopstick tenacity. I dropped off the boarding pass stub and airline receipt to Rose, picked up the damn sandwiches Nigel was on about and returned to my flat. Since I had procured them, I decided to have one, but there was some odd brown “andromeda strain” dust on the ends, so I binned ‘em. Good thing I looked before I bit. The first two classes were junior 2, and I must say they seem a bit behind the others. The opposites game was nearly a train wreck. When I begged them to ask me questions, it was a sea of blank faces. Luckily, the pirate hoopla and “ow” malarkey went over gangbusters. I was hailed by Rose on her super stealthy scooter before lunch (honestly, NO NOISE WHATSOEVER. The CIA should be notified.) She handed me two contracts, one for me and one for Erin. The end date is June 30th, so it looks like I’ll be back in the states for July 4th. I imagine hamburgers and hot dogs might even taste good then. As I was standing in line, one of the junior 2 boys was staring at my Airwalks, elbowing his friends and then they looked, smiled. Then he was stopped a girl who was trying to sit down and whispered to her. She looked at me, then my shoes, smiled. Really, are they that entertaining? They wear trainers, too. So I’m the only one with Airwalks on campus, and yes, they’re fairly puffy like a cartoon (and damned comfortable I might add) but was it issue enough to turn into a thing to tell random people? Punk kids are the same the world over, I guess. I ate, trying to be oblivious to the stares. Fortunately, my chopstick prowess had come back. After lunch, I checked email, then zipped off to my junior 1 classes, surprised that I was the only teacher in there. The kids were great, had me signing autographs, (one boy had me sign his shirt,) and they gave me gifts like drawings, milk drink, a little pad of paper, tissues, and an eraser. I didn’t even get to the opposites game with the last class because of all the questions and the eye exercises. They made me stay after to finish the game. One of the questions they asked me was, “Do you like big ham?” “Uhhhh, what?”“Do you like big ham? Football?”I produced the hackeysack from my pocket. “Is… this a “big ham?”They laughed. I laughed. They kept repeating football and big ham. Finally, one person had a picture. I thought it was some Chinese pop star. Upon closer examination, it was the face of David Beckham.“Ahhhhh! Beckham!” I taught them how to say his name properly and we all had a laugh.I took a walk around the sports area, surprised how soft the basketball court tarmac was, being a spongy red and green padding designed to eliminate scuffed elbows and scabbed knees. Erin and I went to the grocery before dinner for weekend beer and Pocky, a clothesline and hangers. At one point en route, a taxi honked and the driver glared at us with a look on his face that said, “How dare you.” It had nothing to do with our riding, everything to do with our nationality. My bike rides ok, but the seat is a little too low, and the handlebars leave sticky blackness on my palms. We went to the grocery store Nigel first took me to, if only because we didn’t have to cross the street and the beer selection was better. There was an upstairs I was unaware of before, full of housewares and even electronics like a dvd/mp3/cd-r/cd-rw player for not too bad a price, roughly $75 USD. Unsure of the quality or code capability, though. A lady observed us paying for our goods with such childlike wonder, I thought for a split second she may have been mentally retarded. At least she was friendly, unlike the cabbie. When we got out, I suddenly realized my bike had no basket, so I rode back dangling the beer bag from one wrist, the snacks on the other. We made it back shortly before dinner and as I unloaded my snacks, I realized, man I sure didn’t need that Pocky. I already had five boxes in the fridge. Out of sight, out of mind, indeed. I told Erin not to let me buy anymore until I was completely out. Dinner had the much-heralded potato chips, but also the much-maligned “mystery blubber chunks” that always looked like onion from a distance. They also had tofu dogs in some sort of barbecue sauce. That was a little touch of the public education system. You think it’s a burger, and it’s soybean, etc. Afterwards, I played piano and Feng Jao Li showed, but she ran off to have dinner. I played through a mini repertoire, my voice benefiting greatly from a lack of dairy. The acoustics in the room were incredible. I hit the high notes in “F.D.O.F.U” with no significant difficulties. I even ran through Radiohead’s “Sulk,” and OWNED it. Even the last part, which is extra high. Feng Jao Li returned, we spoke briefly, but she had to comfort a friend who was upset at something at work and told me to play, but then to shut the lights and door when I was sleepy.I ran through a few more Rdaiohead songs, since my voice was in peak condition, and finished with “Stupid Car.” I almost held out the last note as long as Thom Yorke. Returning to the flat, I cracked open a Blue Ribbon (no, not Pabst, although they do have it at the grocery) Stout and wrote in my journal until the Hardtalk Extra with Tim Robbins came on BBC World. Erin came over and watched it with me. As soon as Tim Robbins started badmouthing the war, the audio “mysteriously” cut out. The picture was intact, just no audio. It remained off for the duration of the program. An advert came on, and the audio was back. The regular programming had no audio for a half minute, then it was “mysteriously” back on. I sent bbcworld.com a nasty email condemning them for censoring the show and losing their journalistic integrity by bowing to Bush and Blair. Grrrr. I was disgusted and eventually went to bed.

Fancy Web Tool

today i saw this fancy web tool for making web color schemes.

thanks to tom willis.

Montana: Still in Cincinnati

Hey, so yeah: I added another of Aaron's blog entries, though I think he should do that himself. S'ok, though, since I've been having some trouble getting it to work. I guess Sensory Research is having some DNS issues/changes. Oh, well.

In other news, the construction around UC is still crazy. The Wendy's that has been empty for the last month or so was rubble when I passed it on my way home. It looks really crazy along there.

It looks as if Skinny Puppy may tour through Cincinnati. If so, this will be the first time since they were arrested in 1989, though not the first time for either of the remaining bandmembers, as they toured through on Ogre's solo tour a couple years ago.

Oh, as for recommended new music:

• M83 is pretty sweet. Neat, thick synth-and-guitar stuff, with drum machine arrangements of typical rock drums, which makes for a pretty cool sound. Mostly instrumental, too. The few vocal bits that are there are vocoder/processed into robot voices. It's a bit like electronic shoegazer stuff. Very cool. [Beware the fancy website, though; it's a bit disorienting.]
• I downloaded this Robert Palmer album from 1980, Clues. I guess it was his foray into New Wave. I'd copy the blurb from the website, but it's annoying Flash, so forget it. Just check out the record, especially the Gary Numan collab, "I Dream of Wires".

Ok, that's it for now. My boss yelled at me for being consistently late, so i'm off to bed early tonight.

7th day

from Aaron:

Woke up early to grab breakfast and pulled a Nigel. I took a big bowl over and had them fill it with the rolls (still no spicy cabbage) and saved a couple for Erin.
(Before I forget, last night I asked Chi what my bracelet meant and she said it was very lucky, that the shapes were found wherever Buddha is and that it meant “best wishes.”)
Erin and I biked to the photo place so I could get my passport photos done. I asked Chi if I could borrow Nigel’s bike, since I still hadn’t been issued one to replace the henceforth-named “piece of shit.” Traffic was nuts like always, with motorcycles flagrantly ignoring traffic signals, people pulling in front of others without even a glance over the shoulder or looking both ways, taxis honking at every air particle. Haimen City could be straightened out in three days with the advent of one ways, more traffic lights, and a rigorous mandatory enrollment of every citizen in the SafetyTown program.
We reached the photo place and negotiated the release of Erin’s photos, which I think they made her pay for twice. Then I sat in the back and posed, was given a receipt, and I’m hoping like hell they don’t try to charge me again tomorrow. I’ll bring the wrath of Rose down on them.
We pedaled back and Nigel hailed us from the senior block, made us take a plastic bag full of “sandwiches” (bread slices with a sweet butter spread on them.) He asked us about the photo place and told us the KFC was closed for four days. I’ve tried to explain that I have no interest in KFC in the states, let alone some Chinese franchise. Perhaps he’s just trying to relate to us on an American level. I hate fast food and Erin’s a vegetarian. We said, “Ok,” and pedaled back home.
I’ve been issued a new bike, a great yellow monster, made for a boy with rugged mountain bike features. The chain had been recently oiled and there was a tiny pool of bike grease from the drippings. Hot damn.
I surfed the net for a bit, ate a couple sandwiches, watched BBC World, then went to teach. This class went the best so far. I think I’ve really hit my stride with the junior 2 classes. Speaking slowly, a bit of a task for me, really stretches out the period and puts my students at ease. I try to make it as fun as possible. They like the pirate stuff. We didn’t even open the book.
I had lunch (I think there were quail eggs in one dish) and dropped by the arts building. Feng Jao Li wasn’t there, but I left my phone number on her desk, next to a glossy photo of her that could be straight out of a magazine.
The other three classes went great. I added taking a picture of them to illustrate smiles vs. frowns, (every time I ask them what the opposite of a smile is, they say cry). “No frowns,” I told them and they scrambled on top of each other for the camera, all teeth and peace signs. So very cute.
I signed autographs galore, even money, which I’m not sure is legal, but it’s fun to think my American signature will be floating around in circulation. I was given a coin and a custard cake. I met another English teacher, Summer, and after her class one of her students asked me, “Do you love my teacher?”
I replied, “Yes, she’s very pretty,” and his eyes lit up and his mouth dropped open.
I told them one of my hobbies was singing and they requested I sing a song. The only thing I could think to do was sing “Happy Birthday”, but it was no one’s birthday in the class. Not to be deterred from my song choice, I drew a boy on the chalkboard and sang it to him. Yet, I forgot to name him so the crucial moment of the song was “happy birthday dear……….guy.”
One boy, when they were introducing themselves, said “I don’t have an English name.” Nor did most everyone in the class, but since he said so, I dubbed him Charlie. He looked like a kind of pudgy Charlie Brown, so it fit.
Rose got to see me in action for the last class, although I was nervous because she sat in the back stone-faced and graded tests. I didn’t let it show, just taught with my usual fanfare and afterwards she said, “That was very good.” Ha! Now that I know what is expected, this is going to be a breeze. She also said she needed my certification and plane ticket. I emailed Sy, since he has a copy of it. The actual piece of paper is buried in a cardboard box somewhere in Jenn’s storage space. The plane ticket, or rather boarding pass stub, was lurking somewhere in my bag.
Erin’s other bag finally came, along with an emergency care package from her mother. It got here in six days. It had socks, underwear, toiletries, etc. She gave me the Junior Mints because she didn’t eat gelatin, and now her whole payload had its minty olfactory signature.
Dinner was a little underwhelming. None of the usual delicacies this go around. I had pieces of I thought onion, but turned out to be gelatinous chunks. Nigel said the Chinese ate a lot of fat and I queased ruminating whose blubber was resting on my tray slathered in brown sauce.
Nigel, never one to leave the conversation before a few more bits of trivia could be squeezed in, told us of a club in town that he would take us to sometime, where hairless Chinese men took off their shirts while they danced. Not exactly my cup of tea, but Erin brought up the fact I might get a gig DJing there, convince them that I’m a famous American DJ. (I still haven’t played any music, other than what I make myself on the piano.)
After dinner, I decided to just walk around since it was a beautiful day and the sunset was just beginning to blossom. I was headed out to the sports fields and Feng Jao Li came running out of the primary block to meet me.
“You have dinner?” she asked.
“Yes. I ate already.”
“What do you do?”
“Now? Walking around. Going for a walk.”
“Walk?”
I made a motion of running, said “Run,” then returned to pace, said, “Walk.”
“Ah.”
I nodded. “We are walking.”
She went into the primary dining hall and sat, had one of her students translate for her. This little girl in pigtails said, “She will find you later.”
“Ok,” I said. “I will play piano.”
Feng Jao Li nodded. She’s always smiling. Everyone at this school is so happy.
I went to the arts building and tinkered around a bit with this simple quasi-classical song I made up. Then a knock came at the door, and it was Feng Jao Li. She must have eaten very quickly. “We,” she began, then lapsed into Chinese, tapped her forehead in frustration, “talk….er….difficult. Difficult?”
I tapped a simple “Mary had a Little Lamb” melody on the piano, said “Easy.” Then did an all over the place riff and said, “Difficult.”
She creased her brow. “Fast?”
“No, just…” How the hell do you explain “complex” without using the word “complex”? Two of her students came in and they spoke Chinese for a bit, then she gestured toward me and one of her students asked, “Do you have a dictionary?”
“Yes!”
“Tomorrow,” the student continued, “You bring it for her?”
“I’ll get it now. Just a moment.” I held up the index finger of “just one momentness” and ran back to my flat, grabbed the dictionary, ran back.
Feng Jao Li and I spent the next half hour learning about each other with this book bridging the gap in our communication. She asked about my job back home and I taught her “restaurant” and “waiter.” That my parents were “nurses,” my brother was older, married. Her parents are dentists, she’s an only child, etc. We said what we did every night. I told her I wrote letters to friends and watched TV. She said she talked with her girlfriend and watched TV. We confirmed that the night we were all having dinner was actually Sunday, not Saturday. We flipped through the pages of this magic book for the answers our tongues were trying so desperately to conjure.
Night spread its opaque blanket across the sky, and she had to go and sleep. “Early class?” I asked. “You teach in the morning?”
She nodded, and we waved goodbye.
I watched telly for a bit, ate the corn-flavored Pretz (is it possible to complain that something tastes too much like corn? I mean this stuff was cobby! Whoof! File under: never try again.) After a triumphant day, sleep.

aaron's backstory revealed!

hey, so i, like, added aaron's previous blogging stuff to the blog below.
hope you like it. he's in china.

okay, i think this thing is on....

hey, yeah -- i think i've gotten it working, at least on a functional level.

i think now i'll add a few more friends to the blog list....

Wednesday, 6th Day

from Aaron's previous blogging activities:

I woke up earlyish, with just enough time to squeeze in a shower before
breakfast. The spicy cabbage had been replaced by a lima bean mixture, but I
had two of the sweet black bean paste rolls. I paced and freaked out for a bit, then drew up a lesson plan and willed myself to take it slow. I was going to introduce myself, say my age, and the colors of my clothes and then have all the students do the same. Slow, slow, slow. Breathe, Aaron. Slow. The first class was a junior 2 class, so I had it by myself. I went slow and methodical, read out of the book, but stopped frequently to explain everything. We got about halfway through the “pen-friend” letter and then class was over. The next class, 2 (2) I went to, wrote my usual “Hello, my name is Mr. Willis” on the board and then a teacher came by and said, “You are in wrong class.” I showed him my schedule so he didn’t think I was an idiot and he agreed that it did say 2 (2), but even so, it was not my class. I shrugged and left, groans of disappointed students following me down the hall. I showed one of the ladies in the junior office my schedule and explained what happened and she rushed off, returning later a little out of breath with the 2 (2) marked out, reading 1 (2). Oh! I went to 1(2) and was met by Steven, a Chinese teacher who savvied English better than Rose. I started to read out of the book and then he took the book away and encouraged me to do exercises and games with them. I started out signing autographs on all their books. Imade it through half the class and Steven thankfully cut it short because of time constraints. I was already late because of the schedule typo. I went through colors, and greetings, and animals. Played an opposites word game to guess my middle name, and taught them about pronunciation. Their “th” sounds like “s”, so I spent some time practicing with them on touching their teeth to their tongue. I even drew a cartoon mouth to show them and they laughed at it. I also worked on their “r” to make it harder. I drew them a pirate and made them make the pirate “R” noise, and then use it whenever there’s an “r” in the word. They liked that. The bell rang and I accompanied Steven and Lily (another English teacher who knows a fair amount of English) to lunch, although after I dropped off my bookbag, I couldn’t find them in the sea of faces. I was in line behind Rose and she said,”I don’t think there’s any left.” So, I ran up a flight and obtained my meal there, rushed down and sat at the cleanest spot I could find. Rose came over after I was done and said she needed to make a copy of my visa. We walked back to my flat and I handed it over, nervous when I did it. What if they lock it up and tell me I can never leave? What if she loses it? What if etc? She and Erin went into town to take her passport photos and I wandered over to the arts building to see if Feng Jao Li was there. The ladies there know me and they asked “Feng Jao Li?” before I did. I wandered back and watched BBC World for a bit, then went to my next class, which Lily was in. The kids were adorable. I was starting to find my groove,with the colors and the pirates and the animals and the middle name opposites game. The next class was taught with _______ and he lurked in the back and had to translate a lot of what I said. He prompted me before class to go slow because they didn’t know much, but they were very enthusiastic. At the end of class I was mobbed for autographs. A flood of excitement, little bodies cramming each other to put their workbook or notebook in front of my busy pen. One kid put up an R.L. Stine book and I was tickled to see the title was “Say Cheese and Die”, a line I lifted to put in the song “Hack U Up” off the first Fudgie and Fufu album. I tried to explain this in simple English, and I don’t care if they understood, just a great nostalgia came from me and my mouth acted autonomously. After the autographs, I ran into some kids in the walkway playing hackeysack with a magnet and a feather. I said in a Bruce voice, “That’s no hackeysack! This is a hackeysack!” and pulled mine from my pocket. I kicked it around with them for a minute, then retreated to my room. I studied some Chinese phrases on the internet, including “Hi, is Feng Jao Li here?” and went over to the arts building. The three ladies were there as usual, but I surprised them with my sudden burst of Chinese. They told me to wait a moment, that she would be there soon, and I was bestowed an odd red shrink-wrapped edible. I played piano and then Feng Jao Li entered, looking lovely and bright-eyed as usual. Her face scrunches up in the funniest way when she’s trying to tell me something that she can’t convey in English. It’s amusement and agony at the same time. I asked her if she listened to the cd and she said yes. She liked them and thought they were beautiful. Then she went into the next room and came back with a small box. Inside was a bracelet that she put on me, green thread and jade figures. I asked what it meant and she struggled, kept lapsing into Chinese and getting frustrated. “Dream….. No… ….It means very…. … etc.” We went into the next room and the eldest lady tried to explain it. Erin showed up and sat in on the proceedings. Feng Jao Li wrote the number 10,000 on a piece of paper. I asked “It means 10,000? 10,000 dreams?” They laughed and shook their head. I laughed and shrugged. The eldest lady said, “It means you are lovers” and all the ladies broke into laughter. I felt my heart somersault. They then explained that they wanted to invite Erin and I to dinner on Saturday at 6pm. We would meet them in the main lobby of the arts building. Then we listened to the eldest lady play a musical instrument that’s like a Chinese harp. I’ve heard it before, but never seen one, nor seen it played live. There are movable wooden sawhorses under the strings that she moved to tune it, and on the other side of those she pressed down on the string to bend the pitch. She played a song called “Fish Singing _______” and it was incredible. Such skill and grace, such delicate tones. We walked to dinner and Feng Jao Li left us, having to eat at the other dining hall. Erin and I went on to fend for the final scraps of our own dining hall. Rose came up to us while we were in line and handed us our passports back, explained that I needed to take passport pictures (the one I had given her, they were not able to copy). It looked like rain, so we decided to do it in the morning. I opened the edible and it turned out to be a sausage of some kind. Looked like a hot dog, smelled like deviled ham. Erin gave me hers. Then I drank beer and wrote in my journal, occasionally looking down at my new bracelet and wondering if I was going to lose the $20 bet that I would return from China married.

Tuesday, 5th Day

from Aaron's previous blogging activities:

Woke up and checked email, caught Chinese breakfast again, which is becoming my favorite meal, if anything for the consistency of choice. I love the date paste rolls, which I think might actually be a sweet black bean paste. I taught my first classes toady. The first, I was alone. I introduced myself and had them read from their book aloud. We worked on pronunciation. They had a hard time with the “th” sound, so I drew a mouth with the tongue touching the teeth. And I explained that the “ow” sound in brown was like “ow” if you dropped something on your foot. They were laughing, although I’m not sure how much they understood. The next class, Rose was in the back, but she didn’t assist, she only graded tests. Afterwards, she told me I was talking too fast and going too fast in the book. I should have only done one lesson, but also that she didn’t want me to teach out of the book, that I should play more games, and do more cultural stuff with them, ie, talk about American holidays and such. I got some eerie “Sorrel River Ranch” vibes, but I shook them off. I did nothing wrong. I’ve been shoved into a situation where nothing’s really been explained, so I’m doing my best. I don’t know how advanced they are, so I was going from the book. She recommended I spend a whole lesson just on colors, etc. The next two classes, I tried to slow it down a bit and break up the lesson with half from the book and half games and vocab. The last class of the day, I was dying. It was the last stand of Yakov Smirnoff. I pulled a speed-through of colors to get the energy up at the end, but I almost tanked. Tomorrow, I will just take it slow. Now that I have a better idea of what they sort of expect. Before two of the classes, I was interrupted by a loudspeaker chime and scratchy music and suddenly all the students put their hands over their faces while one student from the back paced the room. I thought it was some mandatory “heads-up, seven-up” game until the speaker voice started sing-songing something in Chinese at a low-impact aerobics tempo. The kids rubbed their eyes in unison, massaged their face, pinched the bridge of their nose, then rubbed their temples. This went on for a couple minutes. Maybe this is how they stay so young-looking. I swung by the arts building to play piano for a bit and to drop off a copy of the Lino songs for Feng Jao Li, but she wasn’t there. Hopefully the teacher I gave it to will make sure she gets it. I gave Rose a copy of my passport for the school’s file, and she told Erin and I that we needed passport photos, about six of them. Nigel said the place would be closed before we got there, so we pedaled into town only for groceries. (I borrowed Nigel’s bike as mine is still being replaced) I popped by the arts building, but still no Feng Jao Li. We went to the big grocery across the street from the first one I went to and tried fruitlessly to get a phone card in the mobile phone area. The staff was very polite and courteous. “No one’s ever going to accuse the Chinese of not being helpful,” I said. The grocery was a sprawling three story behemoth, from which we obtained more beer, Pocky, cleaning supplies, etc. At one point Erin pantomimed shaving her legs, at which point the clerk led us all the way across the salesfloor to some bath brushes and rubbed it on Erin’s arm to see if it was soft enough for her. Erin pantomimed shaving her pits next, but the clerk grabbed a different brush. I finally stepped in and pantomimed shaving my beard, and her face lit up and pointed upstairs, smiled. We all laughed. On the way out of the store, we were harangued by a roving gang of stylists, handing cards and trying to get us to sign up for something. I showed them the card Principal Shen gave us and said, “Teachers.” Their enthusiasm deflated. As we unchained our bikes, we choked on meat char smoke coming from a kebab stand we had unwittingly parked next to, then rode off into the night, dangling plastic bags from our hands. I kept ringing my bike bell and broke into “Bicycle Race” by Queen, although I got upset with myself that I couldn’t remember all the words. “You’re not helping our case,” Erin said. “What’s our case?” “They already think we’re crazy.” I shrugged. It occurred to me I hadn’t listened to a single album since Asian Dub Foundation in the car on the way here. I never would have thought it possible. There hasn’t even really been the desire to. Very odd. I attribute it to excessive use of chopsticks, or excessive Pocky consumption. One of those has to be it. We got back and Nigel visited and chatted for a while. I showed him some photographs and we talked about teaching, traveling, politics, etc. I’m sure he’s thankful to have two other native English speakers in-house. Once he gets talking, you’re never sure when it will end. As he walks away and you think he’s wrapping up, four other addendums come out. Erin and I drank beer, ate Pretz and Pocky, watched BBC world until sleepiness overtook us. She retired, and I stayed up looking up ESL games on the internet, then crashed.

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.

Sunday, 3rd Day

from Aaron's previous blogging activities:

While typing away at my journal I got a knock on the door and I assumed it was Erin, but it turned out to be a dark Chinese man looking for something. He had a pad of paper he kept pointing at, but I knew neither what it said or what he was saying. I thought maybe he was from the airport with Erin’s luggage, but I’m sure he would have had them with him if that was the case. I shrugged, said “I don’t know” then he left. Erin and I rode into town, this time I rode the pink one and she rode the fired one. The crank came loose and threw the chain, so we had to walk the bikes most of the trip. A few helpful citizens gathered and helped put the chain back on, then pointed to what I assume was the direction of a bike repairman. We went that direction, but it started getting dodgy, ie, backalleys, dead ends, etc. so we turned back, resigned to walk the bikes. I tried to find the grocery stores Nigel showed me yesterday, but they escaped my gyro compass. We crossed a stagnant river next to some impressive high-rise condos and double-backed to the main drag in an effort to find the stores. We passed a great deal of home –oriented shops, tire stores, leaded glass, tiles, cabinetry, moped repair, and at last found a small grocery. The staff followed us around trying to help. I pantomimed eating with chopsticks and was led to the food aisle, bless them. Lots of smiles, lots of laughter at our struggle to communicate. Chinese may not be necessary in order to teach but it would make the living situation a helluva lot easier. The pantomime for socks was easier to convey and they led us to a rack. “For girl,” the manager said and we nodded, laughed, thanked him. We picked up some beer, more Pocky, of which Erin is a certified addict now, and some odd-flavored Lay’s potato chips: cool cucumber and lemon. We got a bag of each. Erin got some underwear, for her bags have been located in the states, but are now en route to China. Walking back, we talked about family, Erin’s the second oldest out of four kids, etc. I told her of the “only have enough kids to replace you when you die” theology of my folks and how there was a child who was stillborn between me and my brother and how I almost wasn’t here if that child had lived. Once back at the school, I went to lunch, which I was a bit late for, and decided to circumvent the crowds by going to the third floor, which Nigel told me was kosher to do. I pointed at the items I wanted, received my tray, and sat down eager to use my new chopsticks. Then I looked at the food. I recognized one as the school’s form of “potato chips” which I devoured happily. The third floor must be the “scary seafood” option.there was a tossed salad besplendored with shrimp, heads still on, antennae poking up. i hate when food looks at me. What I thought were wedges of potato were actually eel, and there were slices of some kind of aquatic anomaly, round with holes in it like a grey cucumber. I ate the rice and the potato chips and left the rest. And I don’t want to hear anything more about “starving kids in China” because those kids waste a lot of food, too. Once back at my flat, I went out exploring. The arts building was locked so I couldn’t play piano. I went to find Rose at the administration tower but failed. So, I climbed the stairs to the top to get a photo of the campus, then climbed all the way back down. Took a picture of the lake, and the tower, then retreated to my flat to eat Pretz and look up Chinese phrases on the internet. I studied those a while and then watched telly, ate Oreos, and passed out. Erin knocked and I blurrily got to the door. She gave me some immunization information and I gave her a notebook. “I guess we missed dinner,” I said. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I think I still have some jetlag.” So we shrugged and went back to bed.

Saturday, 2nd Day

From Aaron's previous blogging activities:

It’s a beautiful, if a little hazy day. I’m certain the humidity must be up. Comes with the territory of being so close to the river. I’m excited to tour the school. Hopefully I’ll get some piano time in today. I was overjoyed the school has some. Nigel brought me a couple butter sandwiches around 10am after I had already eaten two rolls and an apple. I ate them to be polite. An hour later we went to lunch in the multi-level cafeteria, pointed at the various foods we wanted on our metal tray which was doled out by the kitchen staff, took chopsticks and a had a seat before the prison riot crowd of kids swarmed in. They all looked at us, some smiled, some had the courage to say hello and then became excited when we said hello back. Cuisine is going to be tricky for Erin because even the most veggie-looking dish might have a piece of rogue pork lurking. After lunch, Nigel toured us through the different buildings and we were the main attraction at each classroom. Nigel would introduce us, “These are your new English teachers…from America.” Their faces lit up, some even put an awed hand in front of their smiling mouth. It was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. Sometimes they even broke into applause at the word American. Eager to learn, excited, happy; completely opposite from my juvenile delinquents in Moab. Essentially our job is going to be to get the kids to speak and iron out the pronunciation. The main teacher will still be there, we will be the expert polishers.
The school is broken into boarding dorms, dining halls, classrooms, an art and music building (where the pianos are kept) soccer field and basketball courts with accompanying track ring and an administrative tower overseeing everything. While Erin napped, I rode into Haimen City with Nigel to change some currency and get some groceries. The bike I’ve been issued is one, made for a short girl, and two, a piece of shit. We reached a bicycle repairman on the sidewalk and borrowed his tool to raise the seat. A woman nearby was eating celery, then spit out gobs of fibers and dropped them on the ground. I assume she was only interested in the water contained therein. Not a minute later, an orange-vested woman swept up the celery-leavings. Haimen City, despite being smallish, still behaves like a big city. Traffic is nuts, with no one giving way or being courteous. Everyone has an agenda, bikes come at each other head on, mopeds arbitrarily pass with inches to spare, cabs lay on the horns and swerve maniacally. Outside the bank, we were scolded in Chinese that we parked our bikes in the wrong area. Nigel couldn’t figure out what they were on about, so I interpreted and received smiles after moving them to where all the other bikes were. I e