April 6th: revamped Sandy's and the "home" concept
[ posted by mcdeviltoast ]
Day 202
The day was sunny yet hazy from the surrounding farmers burning stuff on the outskirts. It didn't help my breathing or voice much. Classes went well, some classes more into the bear song than others. I asked about the Qing Ming Festival (Tomb-Sweeping Day) and what they did. It occurred to me that perhaps when they say "memorize the dead" they actually mean "memorialize." Ah, Chinglish. A bottomless wellspring of humour.
I played a bit of soccer with some primary kids before the Harry and Monkey class, then they cleared out en masse. I rode up to the middle school after classes and procured a decent badminton set, one that won't shred itself asunder after one contest. Despite the wind, I played on the roof with Heather and Jeni. With the new gear it's like a whole new game.
When daylight bled its big death scene on the Western stage, we went in and killed time before dinner playing a ridiculous computer game called Nanaca crash (another gem from the internet annals of "where the hell did Steve get THIS?!") The object of the game is to hit a boy with your Japanese girl mountain biker and send his mangled body hurtling over a series of people on park benches, who if hit, aid or injure your progress.
Rhys, Jeni, Heather and I went to the place formerly known as Sandy's for dinner. The place was revamped and we were bade to go upstairs to the kitchen and order our meal by pointing. Gents were hacking away at fish and doing all manner of cooking alchemy dressed in suit coats, looking more like customers than kitchen staff. We ordered sone familiar dishes, dodging their attempts to have us order something with gills. We tried a cucumber dish that was delicious.
Speaking of cucumbers, the beer we were presented with had a picture of cucumbers on the front and had the color of pickle juice (Montana's ultimate nightmare, loathing both beer and cucumbers with equal venom) It was quite good, reminiscent in flavor to Rolling Rock. A very drunk father from upstairs came down and ganbei'd us, swaying and spilling as he toasted, his child laying a series of punches (the kind reserved for somone who is choking) into his father's buttocks.
Apparently, this was their grand opening despite being open for a week. Near us lay a stack of fireworks boxes that were due to go off at 9pm, but they jumped the gun and lit them at 8:30. We got up from our food to watch and they lit them right on the sidewalk, cinders, sparks and empty tubes began to rain down. I went farther down the sidewalk for viewing and self-preservation's sake.
One would think that seeing a huge dangerous fireworks display would elicit a moment's forethought from the passing bikers; alas, no. One lady piloted her bike through the exploding mayhem and the sparks from a just-lit box. Insane and careless. Such oblivion must be relaxing. e returned to our meal, finished and inquired about a cake box they had. They started opening it and cutting it up, even though we had no stomach room. I tried running out of the restaurant to stop the madness, but they divvied it up and I ate a piece to be polite.
We thanked them, paid and left. There are things I can get away with here that I would get my ass kicked for in the states. A guy was on his motorcycle waiting for his girl to get on. Before she did, I jumped on, clapped him on the back, pointed, said "Let's go, buddy." He gestured that he wasn't taking me, but his girl. I got off, apologized as if I truly didn't understand (all the while stifling laughter), and they rode off. Very laid-back people.
We watched "Finding Nemo," and there's a part that crushes my heart. A simple phrase that Dory says when she's pleading with Marlin not to go: "When I look at you.... I'm home." That concept of "home" not being where you are but who you're with is something that resonates with me. (My song "Favorite Witness" has the lyric "home in your arms.") Already torn between Cincinnati and Moab, I fear I'm going to leave a piece of myself in Haimen, too.
Sleep put its shadow on me, relieved me of the burden of consciousness.
The day was sunny yet hazy from the surrounding farmers burning stuff on the outskirts. It didn't help my breathing or voice much. Classes went well, some classes more into the bear song than others. I asked about the Qing Ming Festival (Tomb-Sweeping Day) and what they did. It occurred to me that perhaps when they say "memorize the dead" they actually mean "memorialize." Ah, Chinglish. A bottomless wellspring of humour.
I played a bit of soccer with some primary kids before the Harry and Monkey class, then they cleared out en masse. I rode up to the middle school after classes and procured a decent badminton set, one that won't shred itself asunder after one contest. Despite the wind, I played on the roof with Heather and Jeni. With the new gear it's like a whole new game.
When daylight bled its big death scene on the Western stage, we went in and killed time before dinner playing a ridiculous computer game called Nanaca crash (another gem from the internet annals of "where the hell did Steve get THIS?!") The object of the game is to hit a boy with your Japanese girl mountain biker and send his mangled body hurtling over a series of people on park benches, who if hit, aid or injure your progress.
Rhys, Jeni, Heather and I went to the place formerly known as Sandy's for dinner. The place was revamped and we were bade to go upstairs to the kitchen and order our meal by pointing. Gents were hacking away at fish and doing all manner of cooking alchemy dressed in suit coats, looking more like customers than kitchen staff. We ordered sone familiar dishes, dodging their attempts to have us order something with gills. We tried a cucumber dish that was delicious.
Speaking of cucumbers, the beer we were presented with had a picture of cucumbers on the front and had the color of pickle juice (Montana's ultimate nightmare, loathing both beer and cucumbers with equal venom) It was quite good, reminiscent in flavor to Rolling Rock. A very drunk father from upstairs came down and ganbei'd us, swaying and spilling as he toasted, his child laying a series of punches (the kind reserved for somone who is choking) into his father's buttocks.
Apparently, this was their grand opening despite being open for a week. Near us lay a stack of fireworks boxes that were due to go off at 9pm, but they jumped the gun and lit them at 8:30. We got up from our food to watch and they lit them right on the sidewalk, cinders, sparks and empty tubes began to rain down. I went farther down the sidewalk for viewing and self-preservation's sake.
One would think that seeing a huge dangerous fireworks display would elicit a moment's forethought from the passing bikers; alas, no. One lady piloted her bike through the exploding mayhem and the sparks from a just-lit box. Insane and careless. Such oblivion must be relaxing. e returned to our meal, finished and inquired about a cake box they had. They started opening it and cutting it up, even though we had no stomach room. I tried running out of the restaurant to stop the madness, but they divvied it up and I ate a piece to be polite.
We thanked them, paid and left. There are things I can get away with here that I would get my ass kicked for in the states. A guy was on his motorcycle waiting for his girl to get on. Before she did, I jumped on, clapped him on the back, pointed, said "Let's go, buddy." He gestured that he wasn't taking me, but his girl. I got off, apologized as if I truly didn't understand (all the while stifling laughter), and they rode off. Very laid-back people.
We watched "Finding Nemo," and there's a part that crushes my heart. A simple phrase that Dory says when she's pleading with Marlin not to go: "When I look at you.... I'm home." That concept of "home" not being where you are but who you're with is something that resonates with me. (My song "Favorite Witness" has the lyric "home in your arms.") Already torn between Cincinnati and Moab, I fear I'm going to leave a piece of myself in Haimen, too.
Sleep put its shadow on me, relieved me of the burden of consciousness.
---
[ posted by mcdeviltoast @ 4/06/2005 09:59:00 PM ]
[ permanent link ] 
Post a Comment
<< Home
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!