January 31st: back to Chengdu
[ posted by mcdeviltoast ]
Day 137
Checked out of the hotel at noon, caught the bus to Chengdu whcih dropped us off at the outermost ring of the city limits. The cabride in took forever. We checked back into the hotel from before, returned to the ambrosial noodle place for a final time.
Both of us had repsiratory difficulties from Chengdu's filthy metropolitan coal-burning air, worn out on walking. We stayed in, watched a Rockets game and the commentators used every opportunity to name drop Yao Ming. Ethnocentric to the nth degree. Now that I've seen him play, I know he's overrated. He's the great Chinese hero, simply because he's Chinese. He has no game. He's pretty much an awkward tree out there. And yet, his face is plastered all over here. NBA is the most popular sport in China because of him. But they're crowdsurfing a plywood titan. If he really works hard he might be a good player, but right now he's spending height credit and it's not going to last long. I feel bad for Yao, the pressure must be overbearing, to carry an entire country on your shoulders because of a physical anomaly. Tall as he is, he will never live up to the hype and it may drown him, and when he falls, he'll be "failing China." I wonder if he prays for a career-ending injury. Were I in his position, I might.
We had dinner at Dico's because it was near. We wandered around a department store next door, both got homesick for the west in an outdoor goods store. I kept inquiring about different jackets and such and everytime the girl would shake her head and say "for girl." It continued until I got to a swimsuit rack and there were two sets: trunks and a bikini bottom. I held up the bikini bottom and teased: "for boy?" She nodded. I was dumbfounded. The trunks were for girls and this "thing" that had no room for my scrotum, let alone the general, was supposed to be for guys. Mike and I both laughed.
We tried in vain to have some KTV fun. The first place next to the hotel was dead. The one across the street was equally dead. The manager guy put on Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting" for me to sing.He was barking up the wrong may guo ren. Forcing me to listen to that song is a good way to become my enemy. We downed our beers, left in disgust.
In an alley, we took a WC break and Mike, after zipping up, realized he was pissing on someone's door. Bad ambassador! We got massage to work the knots out of our legs after climbing the mountain and also because nothing else was happening in town. My girl did the spine braid, but also did an individual pinch straight up that popped a few vertebre in my lower back delightfully. She also did an amazing head massage. I lulled for a bit with a tingling skull and goofy grin, Mt. Emei exorcised from limbs and bones.
Sleep was wonderful.
Checked out of the hotel at noon, caught the bus to Chengdu whcih dropped us off at the outermost ring of the city limits. The cabride in took forever. We checked back into the hotel from before, returned to the ambrosial noodle place for a final time.
Both of us had repsiratory difficulties from Chengdu's filthy metropolitan coal-burning air, worn out on walking. We stayed in, watched a Rockets game and the commentators used every opportunity to name drop Yao Ming. Ethnocentric to the nth degree. Now that I've seen him play, I know he's overrated. He's the great Chinese hero, simply because he's Chinese. He has no game. He's pretty much an awkward tree out there. And yet, his face is plastered all over here. NBA is the most popular sport in China because of him. But they're crowdsurfing a plywood titan. If he really works hard he might be a good player, but right now he's spending height credit and it's not going to last long. I feel bad for Yao, the pressure must be overbearing, to carry an entire country on your shoulders because of a physical anomaly. Tall as he is, he will never live up to the hype and it may drown him, and when he falls, he'll be "failing China." I wonder if he prays for a career-ending injury. Were I in his position, I might.
We had dinner at Dico's because it was near. We wandered around a department store next door, both got homesick for the west in an outdoor goods store. I kept inquiring about different jackets and such and everytime the girl would shake her head and say "for girl." It continued until I got to a swimsuit rack and there were two sets: trunks and a bikini bottom. I held up the bikini bottom and teased: "for boy?" She nodded. I was dumbfounded. The trunks were for girls and this "thing" that had no room for my scrotum, let alone the general, was supposed to be for guys. Mike and I both laughed.
We tried in vain to have some KTV fun. The first place next to the hotel was dead. The one across the street was equally dead. The manager guy put on Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting" for me to sing.He was barking up the wrong may guo ren. Forcing me to listen to that song is a good way to become my enemy. We downed our beers, left in disgust.
In an alley, we took a WC break and Mike, after zipping up, realized he was pissing on someone's door. Bad ambassador! We got massage to work the knots out of our legs after climbing the mountain and also because nothing else was happening in town. My girl did the spine braid, but also did an individual pinch straight up that popped a few vertebre in my lower back delightfully. She also did an amazing head massage. I lulled for a bit with a tingling skull and goofy grin, Mt. Emei exorcised from limbs and bones.
Sleep was wonderful.
---
[ posted by mcdeviltoast @ 1/31/2005 04:20:00 AM ]
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The dumbtronica act Montana & McDeviltoast, along with their friends, keep each other updated on their activities. Much fun having by all, and Pockys fear for their lives!