February 13th: huo guo and the grand design

Day 150

Woke to better weather, practiced my songs for an hour or so. I rode out to Dongzhou, Mike and I went to shop for a guitar. I tuned a couple, broke a string on the second one. The shop also had ehrus, more reasonably priced than Guiyang, some odd ehru cellos, four string Chinese guitar-type instruments, keyboards, wooden flutes. I was interested in the ehru cello, but the lady didn't know how to play it.

We stopped by the electronic chap's store to browse for headphones and pick up some CD-Rs, then swung back by the school. Heather was back and we went out for huo guo, although Rhys and Jeni were AWOL. We went to the place the music teachers first took Erin and I. One of my students was having dinner with her parents. In an anunciated voice came "Hello, Mr. Willis!"

"Ni hao! Xinyen kuai le!"

She smiled. "Same to you."

I waved to her parents. It lifted my spirits. With all this holiday idle time, I needed to be reminded that I am a teacher, and how much I love my students. I miss them.

We ate a milder batch than the Chengdu brimstone, and when they first brought the stuff out, hardly any liquid covered a bunch of stuff. We were instructed to finish the stuff first, and then we would receive more water and what we ordered to throw into it. WTF? We tried to make a dent in the pile of food, although, not being fond of tearing meat off bone, I stuck to decimating the ginger strips, celery, and garlic cloves. We made our guy top off the broth, and when boiling, dumped in our beef, chicken, potato, pumpkin, tofu, mushrooms, and cabbage. I wasn't going to drink but Heather and Mike gave some song and dance about how one or two alcoholic beverages is better than none and whatnot and I relented, "Ok, you fuckin' enablers! I was just trying to give my liver a break." All holiday except for yesterday, my staple food has been beer.

So began the white noise factory, the Walken voice among others, and wishing everyone a "xinyen kuai le!" We returned to Heather's room with a crate of beer, Mike was "calling his lawyer" in his room. Rhys and Jeni joined us and we got into a lengthy discussion about homosexuality: physical or cultural (my theory is it's nature's population control), stem cell research, and fuck-off chocolate. The night progressed and when Mike, Rhys and Jeni were having a smoke break, I saw Heather had "Brick" on her hard drive, asked her to play it.

The line "and I'm feelin' more alone than I ever have before" runs through my head too often lately.

"Is it because Erin and Matt are gone?" Heather asked.

"It runs deeper than that."

I miss my people back home, and I get scared of the distance I will have created after a year. I'll still be me, but with a "wisdom and experience upgrade." Will I be treated differently when I return, or will I be the awkward one? Am I doomed to bounce from limbo to limbo for all time, bonding with people only long enough to make it hurt when I go? Reeling and punchdrunk, how many years are left on my heart? At what point will it scar over to keep from hurting? On the other hand, it's attachments that cause pain, and aren't I living in a Buddhist fashion, embracing everything as transition, the ultimate practicing lesson? The grand design assuages fears, brings back perspective, and reminds me of the importance and insignificance of every moment. This thought, combined with a hug from Heather, gave my soul good posture again.

I pedaled home, slept with BBC World on.