May 31st: picnic lesson and smoky miasma

Day 257

This week's lesson I'm teaching them that American families have picnics on Memorial Day. I ask them to tell me their English name, and an item they're bringing to the picnic that starts with the same letter (Jason, jelly). Because of class size and student heistation, it eats up the whole period and everyone gets a chance speaking. The most interesting name of the day: Only (a name certain to bring the fate of "spinster old maid").

I had shaved off my goatee and the second class asked "Are you Mr. Willis?" Nutballs. The apathy crew had the following: Woody brought wood to the picnic ("I bet you will" I told him) and Noodles brought nothing.

Rose called and told me I didn't teach the following day as the kids were camping for Children's Day. Sweet. Surprise days off are the best. I rode up and tried playing songs at the music store, but it was ridiculously hot. I thought it was from playing, but Heather said she was drenched just sitting there. Rehearsal aborted, we went to the bakery and then the blue pacman to join Rhys, Jeni, and Mike for some dumplings and hundun. It treated my stomach alright this time, but all I had was hundun.

There was an eerie obscura surrounding the town. It seems everyone in the countryside decided to burn things (perhaps Children's Day is preceded by Burning Day) so a smoky haze descended, blocking the view of the street-ends. I'm sure it was good for keeping mosquitos at bay, but bad for clear breathing.

We bought a crate of beer, started in on it after it chilled. I went a little excessive since I had no class the next day. We watched "The Machinist" but I didn't make it until the end. No matter, I'd seen it before. A headache was certain for the morning.

pics from shanghai

old town shanghai











istanbul debauchery n elaborate WC


mick n monica


on the bus after a blitzkrieg weekend


sunset over the yangtze

pics from suzhou deux

blue wave pavilion alamo


bamboo view


hobbit picnic area


hollow tree


the main promenade in old town



bonsai gardens



the ever-WCing cranes


heather drinks the tea


jeni drinks the tea


llinos drinks the tea


rhys drinks the tea


toast drinks the tea




the leaning tower of tiger hill(interior photography forbidden)







tiger hill splendor





the pub bar series


7 months between martinis is criminal

May 30th: shorts shopping and ghetto quesadillas

Day 256

Caught up on blogging, watched "Cat's Eye." Had a peanut butter and banana sandwich for lunch. Rode home, showered, rode back to do some shopping with Jeni.

I tried in vain to find a decent pair of shorts. They have the concept all wrong here. They are too long and too tight; basically capris for men. Ugh. I might have to make my own with some scissors. We hit up several places along the main thoroughfare: shoes, Chinglish shirts, etc. We took a French fry break, wound back around and then took a cab back to the middle school.

For dinner, Mike, Heather, and I had flour tortillas with cheese (cheddar and pepper jack) and salsa, microwaved for a minute. To an American in situ, this may sound like nothing, but in China all the ingredients are highly exotic, hard to come by, and collectively garfed our dining funkel. I will never again take for granted this simple pleasure, taste and texturewise. After two days of not eating Chinese food, my stomach has not felt distended. Strong correlation suspected.

Rhys and Jeni came and watched "Robots" with us. After, I had a steam to allow for breathing: cheese had stuffed me up considerably. Then came sleep, the nightly visitor, always welcome.

May 29th: return to Haimen and galaxial closure

Day 255

Woke, got to shower at long last. Huzzah! Llinos' other Aussie roommate Mick and his Chinese girlfriend Monica accompanied us for Western breakfast at the Blue Moon Cafe when we finally left the apartment at noon. I had eggs benedict (insert orgasmic moan here) and iced coffee, drew some cartoon T-shirt designs on my placemat.

On the subway back, we stood near a guy who was having a rough time of things. It looked like he was asleep, but I saw the seeds of vomit being sewn. Why can't people hold their meals down in this country? When the train stopped, we all exited and reboarded a couple cars up before my dude could spew. The dude spat into his hand right before we switched, so we got out of there just in time. Mick and Monica left us to go check out the final day of "Get It Louder", and we went to the outdoor market.

I picked up some DVDs including "Star Wars Episode III" which dude assured me was "original" and not filmed in the theater. We got his card, so if he lied, we could come back and kick his ass. I had dreamt about it the night before after being reminded of it every day in the last week, whether emails from pals about it, hearing about it on the radio show, and then seeing billboards all around Shanghai. It had become an obsession and now that I had it in my hands, I wanted to watch it immediately.

We went to a big Western supermarket across from Istanbul (and mere blocks away from the market, more map annexing) collected some stuff for the Dongzhou posse, then we bade Llinos adieu and hurriedly leapt the bus back to Haimen. The bus was extra speedy and we made it back before nightfall. I threw on "Episode III" and it was not filmed in the theater. The quality wasn't perfect, some pixelation was visible as if it was a VCD, but it worked fine. It was an emotional experience seeing the mythology tie together, all questions answered, all characters given new depth. I sat open-mouthed on the edge of my seat for most of the film, shaking my head in awe. It jacks the darkness factor hinted at in "Empire Strikes Back" tenfold.

It is easily my favorite of the series, just because of the sheer importance, pivotal plot points, and fucking amazing action sequences. Anyone not moved by the "Anakin vs. Obiwan" battle at the film's climax simply doesn't have a pulse. Maybe with time, I will start to pick out flaws and kick start my cynicism again, but for right now I'm a wide-eyed kid thoroughly satisfied. I watched it again after a ten minute break, then went to sleep.

May 28th: loud art and dining decadence in Shanghai

Day 254

We woke, had a hurried bakery breakfast (washed down with coffee and Bailey's for myself), caught a cab to the bus, and we were off. I had knocked on Mike's door but no answer, so it was just Heather and I.

I dozed for a bit on the bus, repeatedly coming very close to actual slumber before the weight of my head nodded down and jostled me awake. At last we reached Shanghai, walked the now familiar streets from bus station to Metro. On the subway two Chinese girls laughed when I said "Dui bu qi" and told me "You sound like a rebbut."

Rabbit? No. Robot. "I know," I said. "I want to be funny." I like perfectly imitating the Pimsleur's narrator voice in Chinese. It's a gas.

We went to the old town part of Shanghai, ate some fresh naan, sequestered ourselves in an antiques complex, pored over miniature wood carvings for a couple hours, eventually walked with over 20 pieces between us. We got another naan to split on the way back and hopped the Metro to meet Llinos.

We all had coffee at a "Mr. Coffee & Mrs. Pizza" chain where they're close to Western refill policy, (while not free, each subsequent cup is half price). Then we proceeded to the basement level of a mall and perused the art exhibition "Get It Louder," made up of installations, animation, graphic design, statues, clothing and documentary films from a collective of young Chinese, Kiwi, German and other Asian Pacific area artists. A couple highlights were an interactive poster that changed imagery with sound (so we spent a few minutes screaming at it) and a short film about Guangzhou. There was also a bar that gave out free Chivas and ginger ale highballs.

Llinos' friend Angela joined us there and then on to Istanbul, a quick walk from that mall, my mental piecemeal map of Shanghai annexing more with each visit. This time around we were treated to the buffet, which all of us agreed was probably the best meal of our dining career. Excellent Turkish cuisine: lamb, chicken, beef (flavorful and tender), eggplant with yogurt, mushroom soup, stuffed grape leaves and peppers, falafel, etc. Llinos ordered a bottle of Chilean Cab Sav, and I requested a hookah be brought out, because if you're going to wear the sash of decadence, you've got to accessorize.

The bellydancer was spot-on and and sporadic, which we were thankful for: the sound system was decibeldelic, shrill, treble heavy. Plus, a foreigner (of suspected Eastern European descent) salivated lecherously whenever she did her routine. He was a disgusting pig-peanut of a man, bottom lip and tongue flopping out, a demeanor that screamed out "part-time paedophile."

The men's bathroom had an overly elaborate Western toilet that was likely heisted from a space program. Resplendent with buttons and lights and instructions labeled: "For women," "to wash hips," "seat and water temperature," etc. I noticed while I was splashing cold water on my face. The restaurant was overly hot despite being below ground, and I had to stand outside for a few minutes to prevent excessive ass sweating.

Angela left us and we walked straight up the road to the bar district I had last been on New Year's Eve (another map annex). This was a little eerie how well I was getting around the bustling metropolis after only a few visits. We ran into trouble trying to give the clubs our patronage. Windows barred us beacuse Heather and Llinos were wearing sandals. Remix led us to a couch, bade us sit, and then told us to move because a larger group came in after us. We told them where to stick it, and ended up at the Kangaroo Bar, a low-key Aussie sports bar tended by Llinos' friend Nathan.

I was craving a shower after spending the whole day walking around and then forced to sit in hot places and marinate. Llinos cabbed us back to hers and we stayed up a few minutes with her Aussie roommate Karen, watched a New Zealand Cops-esque show. The criminal element in every segment was Maori youths drunk and disorderly. It made me think of "Bowling for Columbine" and how the show Cops is designed to be a fear factory always showing minorities behaving badly, fueling suspicion and prejudice. If one were to never to meet a Maori, from television you would deduce that they are all violent drunks that should be feared and avoided. It made me a little sick.

We disassembled couch cushions, laid them on a mattress, fashioned a bunk in the living room corner, blinked away consciousness while cradled in upholstered softness.

May 27th: soapboxes and stalker students

Day 253

My hopes for a better day than Thursday seemed promising. The energy level was up and things were going smoothly until...I started showing pictures of May festival. At the one of Heather and I on the Great Wall, Very Angry snickered to his friends and made a "thumbwars" gesture (equivalent to the American "finger in hole"). I kicked him out and he didn't even protest. Sometimes you're so busted, you can't even dispute.

The next class gave their usual mediocre stab at participation, a non-comitted junior 2 symptom. After lunch, I held up my promise from the previous week of singing "Hey Jude" for class 7 and they all cracked up at the "Na na na" part. Class 8 ended a bit early and Jimmy asked me if I liked Japanese. "Not again," thought I. The Nanjing Massacre is given as a reason, THE reason actually, every time. The Japanese government has never apologized for the atrocities committed (unlike Germany) and after 60 years, two cultures forged out of face-saving, honor and pride will likely never see the end of their quarreling.

I asked them who did it? Army. "Japanese army killed Chinese army?" They nodded and I mounted my soapbox. "That's what armies do. They kill people. They are bad." I drew a map of Japan, shaded a portion that signified the army population. "This is the army. Very small. What about the rest of Japan? Farmers? Children? Students? Do you hate them?"

They shook their heads no.

"Then you don't hate all of Japan."

Their faces changed, they could see my point. Jimmy nodded. "Only a little bit."

"Right," I said. "Do you know Pearl Harbor? Japanese army killed a lot of American army, but I don't hate Japanese."

I think I was getting through to them, but since the class was right next to the English teacher's office where Rose was, I hastened to continue. After all, this could be construed as "interfering with Chinese politics," which my contract strictly forbids. I concluded with, "I don't want to kill people. I just want to make songs."

After packing for Shanghai, I rode up to the middle school. We decided to get la za ji ding at the sheep place, but were delayed en route by a student of Rhys's who wouldn't take a hint to leave. Heather told her over and over that tonight was not a good night to fraternize and practice English, but then she lingered to see who else was game, but none of us were.

We enlisted Mickey to talk sense to her, and she ended up walking with us a block before Shishan Lu and I told her we would be at the club at 10:30, knowing she would not meet us, or if she got there, would never find us. Mickey joined us for dinner, and then after for massage. While we got worked on, we talked about America and how she wants to visit Heather and go to Chinatown. I told her that most Chinese in America speak Cantonese (so the little Mandarin I've learned will be absolutely useless stateside).

She left us before we hit the club, everything about her visits a delight except the brevity. The club was packed and they stuck the four of us upstairs (all the better for avoiding the stalker student.) The floor show was some song parody with dirty words (all in Mandarin) with groping and simulated humping between the man and woman. Next was another Michael Jackson impersonator who began the routine with audio from the Thriller video: extended girl screams and werewolf howling. Heather and I finished our beer and left, turned in early for the bleary bus to Shanghai in the morning.

May 26th: gluey minutes and the red-faced walrus

Day 252

Thursdays have been bad, this one was excrutiating. The Ultraman class was lacklustre, and after lunch it just got worse. No energy in either students or myself, an overcast sluggish filth coating all clocks in molasses, every minute expanded into Oscar speech length. Class 1 started out telling me they felt bad because they failed their exams. After showing them pictures of May festival I asked them what they wanted to do and they said "Sleep." Great idea. i told them to put their heads down and be quiet. I have a new appreciation for my high school teachers who "treated" us with study hall. I now understand it was a break for them, too.

The next class had WC hooligans I had to lock out, but the group had whittled to two from the eight of last week. Same chaps, though. The rest of the class didn't really get into the song and the remainder of the period was spent with students calling each other "player" and "color wolf."

Final class and I was irretrievably dragassed. We spent the whole period discussing what we were going to eat in the summer. A non-joke entry: sparrow. They eat sparrows here. Side note: In Nantong, at Captain's bar they have it on the menu, consulted Matt and company what to call it and they took the piss, told them "pterydactyl." It's presently listed on the menu as such. Woe to the expat not in the know who sees it.

I dragged myself to my place, decompressed with some music and thought very strongly about having some tea, but it didn't happen. I was that unmotivated. I rode up to the middle school with strength from reserve tanks I didn't know I had. For shits and giggles I got the idea to make fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, just like Elvis Aaron Presley. We secured the stuff from Times, got to it. Mike, even with his injured arm, cut bananas and flipped sandwiches like a pro. Tasty.

The man responsible for Rhys' stomach duress had invited all of us to the tents at 8 for more keg mayhem. Heather and I went down since Rhys was still teaching the Koreans and the guy started toasting ("Cheers cheers") everything and demanding to know where Rhys and Jeni were, to the point where I volunteered to go and collect them. Rhys had gotten a late start since one of his students had injured his elbow (lot of that going around, right Mike?) and would be down after.

I returned to the table sans pals, and in another ten minutes they came down. This guy was like a big red-faced cartoon walrus, bellowing and urging glasses to be upended, yet keeping his wife's glass under the halfway mark, with chopsticks on top to prevent unlicensed pouring. No one was allowed to drink from anyone else's pitcher and he watched the proceedings like a casino pit boss.

Erin showed up and Walrus made damn sure she caught up to the rest of us drinkwise, pointing and bellowing, regulating the intake. The more the night went on, the redder his face got. Sorta scary, this chap.Erin made her exit before the night got helplessly out of control, using the old "just going to the WC" trick and never returning.

I had the brilliant idea of pretending I was too drunk and then wandering off to the WC and not coming back. I took off my shirt, acted beligerent, mock-stumbled towards the alley with Heather following behind to "steady" me. Once out of sight I asked, "Did I sell it?" She told me I had. We made it back to the middle school and slept, thankful Friday was almost upon us.


he is the walrus, goob goob goo joob


walrus n the missus



rhys has deep philosophical rant with guy about smoking coriander


andy lurks, trying to be there and not be there like a kiwi hamlet


guy n heather


guy, erin, jeni


heather n toast


walrus puts a vicious headlock on his missus


erin, jeni, rhystafarian


toast n lao ban


"plan beligerenta" is executed

May 25th: basketball americana and ralfing

Day 251

This week I'm teaching a one-two punch of the "Peanut butter and jelly" song from camp, and time permitting "My Bonnie" with accompanying sitting and standing for the B-words. In the Harry and Monkey class, all the students started screaming in Jellybean's ear when they sang "Jelly." That poor bastard tried putting wads of paper in his ear canals, but it didn't work.

I showed some pictures of the may holiday to spare Jellybean the sonic assault and Emnite told me I was "very bu hao" because there were two pictures of me with Heather. "Why?" I demanded. Either they didn't know Heather was the same girl or you're not supposed to have physical contact with a girl before marriage. Someone in the back called me a playboy. I shook my head. "You guys are not clever. I am not a color wolf." They would be shocked and astonished at the amount of people who have arms around each other in photos the world over. Even more baffling, was before class began I said it was hot and the seeming prudes suggested, "You can take off your clothes." Weirdos.

Rose gave both me and Erin's passports and such back to me while I was eating lunch. So much for the negative prediction that they would hold them hostage until our contracts were up. In one of my classes, a kid gave me two tickets to some NBA deal at Haimen Middle School. I showed them to Mike who conformed that Paul Pierce, whose name and photo were on the ticket, was a heavy and worth checking out. I thought perhaps it would be some interview meet-n-greet and maybe a "don't do drugs" thing, but it would be entertaining no matter what.

After some tent fare (including a draught liter from the kegs) Mike and I headed up to the middle school, presented our tickets and entered the gym, which was very surreal, like someplace transported out of middle America. An exhibition game of sorts was already in progress, perhaps a warm-up show before the guest of honor. We got into the game, relishing seeing fellow countrymen do their thing, I was personally delighted just to see some of my black brothers after a long absence. I've felt like I've been living as a white yolk in a yellow egg here. It made me really appreciate the diversity of America.

It dawned on us as the game was nearing its end, that Paul Pierce was not even there. This was China after all, taking liberty with copyrighted images and text, not knowing they actually meant (and promised) something in English. We laughed about it, met some of the players down on the court. They were here on a two week tour and we were the third and fourth English speakers they had met. A hodge-podge of NBA second-stringers, hopefuls and college grads made up their group, and we invite dthem to the tents for some keg action and conversation. A few of the guys were interested, saying they first had to shower and eat as a group.










Mike and I gave them the directions, then headed back to Dongzhou where we learned Jeni, Heather and Rhys had stayed behind, unknowingly enlisting themselves in a ganbei war purely by being there. Heather looked a little woozy and dragged out the red basin as a precautionary measure. I went to check on Jeni and Rhys, the latter a full liter ahead of the rest, who excused himself to the bathroom and seconds later a sound akin to someone throwing buckets of water against the wall sounded. Poor fella.

Mike and I went down to the tents alone, waited for our basketball bretheren. We decided to have some peanuts and cucumbers, split a liter being gunshy about ending up like the others. After an hour, we realized the chaps were not going to show. They were tired in a strange town, it was a long walk, they knew no Chinese. We decided we'd just finish our food and drink, be on our way.

A table near us was ganbei'ing each other and none looked too enthused about life. One guy vomited on the pavement by his table. The two nearest tables cleared out. He got up, jettisoned an arc of puke that came danergously close to the cooking equipment, and walked down the street cleaning off his glasses, which had sustained a hit in the last torrent of barf. Feckin' lightweights.

Mike and I vacated, called it a night.

fotos de festiva mayo parte dos

beijing hot pot with ryan and gao fei


o hummus, i love ye more than ye can know


fruitbats james and mary from the train to beijing










nanjing sights




going apeshit for pocky on the train


three dashing rogues crossing the yangtze


underground city (photography forbidden)


toast and heather on tienenman square

May 24th: a Tuesday off and distended bellies

Day 250

My weekend rolled on, not having to teach today because of exams. Heather, Mike and I started drinking and watching Napoleon Dynamite before noon. I went home and uploaded pictures, posted them on the Montana & McDeviltoast blog. Now I need to work on the ones from this weekend.

Rose collected both Erin's and my passport, expert certificate, etc. I suppose to make copies to replace the copies already made, maybe they needed new red stamps. We tried to iron out plane ticket whatnot, but she was teaching and said as much. I'm planning on going to Shanghai and buying the ticket myself, having them reimburse me.

I went back to the middle school after showering and Mike, Heather and I took a walk around town, ate at KFC (sorry), stopped by the DVD place, the bakery, but basically enjoyed the fresh air and dusking sun. It seems Chinese cuisine isn't agreeing with me on some level. Even delicious merciful dumplings, the Asian manna, arre giving me the "distended belly" feeling after I eat them. It gives me a "one meal ahead of myself" feeling. What a crazy thing that I need to eat American fast food to feel good.

We watched the Coen version of "The Ladykillers" and "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" until sleep galloped in and collected us.

fotos de festiva mayo

some delightful shots from the may holiday:

the old world china of bejing back alleys





the legendary beijing duck


colonel vs. knockoff







tienenman square (with darby)






forbidden city
















the great wall







istanbul restaurant in shanghai

May 23rd: weekend fallout

Day 249

Lazy day of blog catch-up and not eating. In order to realign my gestation pattern, I would only eat when I became hungry instead of eating because it was time. It worked. I listened to Jenn's radio show, unpacked, gathered stuff to ship back to the states.

I rode out to the post office, suffered the damnable stares and clerks touching my shippables (not out of official duty, but curiosity). It was a fairly packed box, with many Chinglish shirts for the 80's tribute. I went to Shishan Lu in hopes that they would have Episode III, but no dice. I found a Stephen Chow film called "Tricky Brains," took a chance on it. Also picked up the latest animated feature from the director who did "Spirited Away."

Mike, Heather and I went to the tree dumpling place for dinner, then Heather and I watched my new purchases (the cartoon had English subtitles from a Dolph Lundgren film called "Detention" and matched up so well, we didn't notice until after a half hour. It wasn't until the f-word was dropped a hundred times in a minute that we realized.) We burned a mosquito coil, giggled away at the accidental entertainment subtitle mash-up, slipped away into nocturnality.

2005/02/22:Palindromes

i got up in the afternoon, and though i had intentions of breaking in the new coffeemaker, i ran into a problem. when i'd gotten the filter, i'd assumed i'd be getting a cheap coffeemaker, which meant basket-type filter. instead i'd gotten a fancy one, so i actually needed a cone-type filter. luckily, upon recounting the story to lyndsey, she mentioned that she was in fact going to the same mall for some other purpose, and would exchange the filter for me. sweet. yay for friends.

i did a bit of work on the spare bedroom, which will become the toast's room when he returns. i got a couple more boxes worth of stuff out of there, though there's still a lot in there.

i finished 2001, which andrea had interrupted last night. i think this is the first time i've seen it all the way through (albeit in three installments), and i totally love it. when i saw parts of it in college, i had thought it boring, and never watched it again. college me couldn't get into it, current me does.

i also finished the second season of the awful truth. as i said, it's not bad, but it's not a keeper, i don't think.

i popped down to the esquire theater to visit sara, as she was back in town. i stood there chatting for a while, then just decided to see Palindromes, the new Todd Solondz film. i won't say too much about it, for this reason: now that i've seen it without any foreknowledge of the subject matter or style, i think i enjoyed it more due to that lack of foreknowledge.

so, what i will say is that it's a sort-of sequel to welcome to the dollhouse, his first (i believe) film, though sequel isn't really the right word; it's definitely related, though. if you like Solondz, go see it. seriously. and if you own dollhouse and/or happiness, then set aside your dough to buy this one when it comes out. i know i'll be getting it.

if you're not so sure, go dig up ebert's review. i read it, and i'm glad i didn't read it before i saw the film. (we do agree on most points, though.) he just says too much about the film. not spoilers, exactly -- just too much. go see it.

after the film i chatted with andrea again, and then ate some grilled cheese sandwiches while i watched the first half of the live league of gentlemen dvd.

May 22nd: return to Haimen and a chevished cabbie

Day 248

Woke, collected my gear, went with Heather to get coffee, then on to dumplings. Rhys and Jeni, up drinking 'til god knows when, were still sleeping and would meet us in front of Llinos' hotel after checking out.

After eating, I bought some silks, nowhere near as plentiful or varied as October. We met our bedraggled mates and toured the Garden of the Blue Wave Pavilion. I saw the whole thing this time, as I got separated from Erin, Chuck and Meagan last time and stayed in one place until I rejoined them. I also had unlimited pictures to take, but I realized I had already taken most of them the first visit.

We killed time window shopping until the Pub Bar opened. We had been salivating for English breakfast since we saw it on the menu the day before. When it came, it didn't disappoint: eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, baked beans. The tomatoes were curiously absent, but everything else was spot-on. The coffee was incredible; Jane (the newly adopted Chinese mum) used an odd glass beaker with tube and candle apparatus and whatever magic it held, passed directly into the flavor.

We left Rhys and Llinos to nurse their beer and discuss all things Welsh while we shopped some more. I was able to find a batik emblazoned with the bodhisattva with a thousand hands, a hauting image I will The last bus to Nantong left around 6, so we had to clear out. We said goodbye to Llinos, caught a cab at a corner, which is apparently the only traffic law anyone will enforce. You can run red lights, not give right-of-way, drive the wrong way down a street in reverse and a cop will not bat an eye, but try to collect foreigners on a street corner and one will swoop out of nowhere and take the next eight minutes writing out a ticket, leaving the cab to block even more traffic. Smart.

Our cabbie got us to the station, but there were no buses to anywhere. Uh oh. We negotiated with some cabbies outside and eventually talked one down to 300 kuai. He got us to Nantong, then demanded more because it was longer than he had anticipated. We gave him another 10 kuai as hush money, told him to choke on it.

We met Erin and Matt at Captain's Bar. I had company sandwich but had that distended belly feeling like I was one meal ahead from the immense breakfast. I felt overly gluttonous and promised myself tomorrow I would get my gestation pattern realigned. We took separate cabs back to Haimen and our cabbie was the most inept driver in China. He drove us through some country roads where people stumbled zombie-like in the dark shoulder, walking towards the expansive nothing. We were all exhausted and cracked up at our cabbie's complete lack of skill and road sense.

The gate of the middle school never looked so inviting. The trek took twice as long as necessary, we poured ourselves out of the cab, relieved and giddy. Sleep had cloaked us for the past hour, now we were able to surrender to it.

2005/05/21: Star Wars and stuff

ok, first blog-style post in a while.

i got up in the afternoon and took a shower.

the night before i had acquired some coffee (the famous Buzz blend; i have connections... ), so i decided i wanted to go and get a grinder. knodel told me a burr grinder was the way to go if i wanted to grind the beans for both espresso and coffee, which i did: i already have a home espresso machine (though i havent really gotten around to opening it yet) and i was planning to get a coffeemaker soon. he also tipped me off that i should get a gold coffee filter, since in addition to just saving on buying paper filters, it'll let the coffee's oils through.

since i have shopping alone, but most of my friends were either out of town or at work, i called my friend lyndsey, who's just moved back into the area. she was free, so we drove up to the mall. no f-ing around for me; i went directly to williams-sonoma. i'm rich, you know. :) actually, i just know they have the good stuff there.

i ended up with a nice krups burr grinder. the display model was white, but when i made an offhand joke about getting it in black, the lady actually had one in stock in black. sweet. i also got a gold filter, the basket kind. i still didn't own a coffee maker, but i figured i'd get a cheapo $20 one at target or something, thus the basket-style choice. after some quick food at the food court (i sure like chick-fil-a fries, even though i can't eat much of the other items, as they all caontain meat), lyndsey dropped me off at home.

i watched a couple episodes from michael moore's the awful truth. i own the second season on dvd, and i haven't gotten around to watching it all yet, so i'm working my way through it. it's not bad overall, but it's a bit dated and nowhere as good as his films, i think. i'll probably get rid of it eventually, in an effort to keep my dvd collection from getting as needlessly huge as my cd collection.

january fairy called me and confirmed our plans to see star wars episode iii later that night, so i went online and finally tried out movietickets.com, which i've been seeing ads for in the theater forever. the ads are annoying, but when we got there and i put my credit card in the automated box office, it spit out the tickets no problem. incredibly painless. i hate to say it, but i recommend using them, despite their annoying and ubiquitous ads.

so yeah, we saw it. i won't go into too much detail, but i will say that it's by far the best of the newest three. nice and dark, and definitely not for kids, which is weird, because it seemed episode i was a kids' film. it was good to see the stupid "i've got a bad feeling about this" line knocked out of the way early on. ewan mcgregor does a great alec guinness impression, and was definitely one of the best parts of the film, as was ian mcdiarmid. of course, as with the other two prequel films, there was a host of miscasting and bad acting, much of it left over from the other two. sam jackson just doesn't fit as a jedi, and hayden christiansen just plain ol' sucks. as usual, ebert and i agree, so check his review for more.

we'd consumed a ton of caffeine and sugar before the film, so afterward, we took the time to head to meier so i could pick up a coffee maker. as i mentioned before, i intended to get a crappy $20 one, but i noticed a cool-ass hamilton beach coffee maker with a thermos instead of a hotplate. i was excited; the hotplate is what makes diner coffee taste like diner coffee, and so it's to be avoided if at all possible. i splurged the $60 and picked it up, though i didn't realize that it's also available in all-black (without the chrome). oh well. :)

we did the steak & shake drive through on the way back, which was good; it'd been a long time since my fast food from earlier. :) actually, i don't eat fast food often, so it doesn't bother me too much to hit it twice in one day.

at home, since i was still awake, i put on 2001, which i'd started a week or two ago but fallen asleep on. i also broke out the vodka. i had a slight bit of the ketel one citroen left, so i drank that and opened my new botle of grey goose le citron. the difference was amazing; i loved the ketel one, but the grey goose le citron was fantastic.

andrea called to chat, as she's in chicago this weekend interviewing for jobs. it was late (after 4am), but i was still up, so we chatted for a while. then, while on the home phone with andrea, laura called the cellphone to tell me she'd won $800+ dollars at the casino. i told her that in light of her newfound riches, she'd be taking andrea and i out to dinner. :)

after the chat with andrea, i went to bed, as the sun was already up. no problem; my bedroom is completely dark when i close the door.

May 21st: Suzhou deux

Day 247

Woke at 5:30, had some coffee and Bailey's. We all piled in a cab, boarded the bus to Suzhou. I slept most of the way there and it seemed a different person was in the jump seat next to me whenever I stirred. Once in Suzhou, we walked the familiar route (familiar to me from Erin and I visiting in October) down over the bridge, past the pagoda, then caught a cab not likely to put a "near the station Anglo surcharge" and went to the creatively named Suzhou Hotel.

Since my last stay, they had raised the quality by one star, and thus the room rates by half. We four got a double room and Rhys napped while I and the girls had dumplings at the place where I originally broke my dumpling hymen. Tasty, although I think the tree place has outodne them.

We went back, woke Rhys and caught a cab to Tiger Hill to meet Llinos, a Welsh lass Rhys and I had befriended on myspace. It's crazy to converse with someone, know what they look like and establish rapport all before meeting them in the flesh, which seems like a formality. It illustrates how trivial physical interaction has to do with getting to know someone. The advent of blogs, of accessible profiles and photos, globalization in general, has made it possible to forge friendships through a satellite handshake. To the haters who see the internet as contributing to society's alienation, reality-fleeing and porn cataloguing, I present the following pros: Rhys, Jeni, Llinos, Chris (all well met in real life) and the cornucopia of other pals I have yet to meet upon my return to the 'nati.

We chatted each other up while touring the number 1 (lucky best favorite) sight in Suzhou. I confess I'm starting to get "templed out." The leaning tower was interesting because of its slightly Arabic design (and leaningness) but you were not permitted to climb it. An amusement park-esque queue for one floor of nothing of interest? Stupid.

We stopped and had tea, took in the view of treetops and the multitude of cranes that filled the sky like autonomous kites. Afterwards, we strolled past bonsai gardens, past the incidental "sword pond" and took refuge under a pagoda to observe the cranes, who seemed bent on painting the foliage and pathways below with white spatters of feces. We escaped unstained, but also unsettled.

The favorite piece of Chinglish of the day was a posting for "temple for the chevishing moonlight." We theorized a definition for chevishing as we tried to escape and seek nourishment. The exit led us past a series of booths, carnival barkers trying to hook you by the arm to sell you a tiny clay child statue that urinates when you pour water over it; a joyless parade of awful trinkety stuff, winding and turning through narrow streets.

We hopped a bus to god-knows and we had to walk through a KFC-sponsored promenade to get back to the tree-lined old town. A guy named Aaron rode his bike alongside us, practicing his English and leading us back. We dined at The Pub Bar, the place Erin and I went before with Tomer and Patzik, shot pool and tuned the house guitar. The UKers gorged themselves on cottage pie, while we yankees opted for sandwiches.

We shot pool upstairs, which was uncomfortably warm. My "Over the Rainrow" shirt doesn't breathe very well, so I doffed it. We were the only ones up there, so who cares? Pint followed pint and we somehow found ourselves down at the abhorrent Dream Hollywood with two Dutch fellas in tow. It was the only place I could secure a martini. We could only stomach one drink before the loud awfulness sent us out. Frank and Stan, our new holland mates, bailed out for massage. We went other places (it's a bit fuzzy) and I had forgotten to drink coffee to keep awake. I nearly passed out on a tabletop and returned to the hotel, thoroughly exhausted and spent.

May 20th: how Fridays rule

Day 246

I didn't have to kick anyone out of the first class, and Angry & Vinnie Bufante relished skewering their teacher with biting lines like "Big Fish is in the zoo," "Big Fish is in the bathroom," and "she is a fool," all in one acidic verse. My guitar callouses feel odd and I wonder if they'll last and if so, will the lack of sensation in my fingertips affect my piano playing?

For the last two classes, both Rhys and Heather attended and the kids were charming. It's always a fear that they will get rowdy or reticent when confronted with new exciting faces, but the happy clever hordes of classes 7 and 8 were sociological silk. Bill in class 7 was especially enthusiastic getting a little ahead of his own English capacity at times, shouting out "swimming" any time he could, whether appropriate or not. I mentioned to Rhys and Heather that he compensated energywise for that which he lacked in "street clevers," a symptom I've been here too long when I start inventing my own Chinglishisms. My students coined a couple of their own: "very yes" and "next now." (I told them I'd sing "Hey Jude" next week and one adamant little sweetheart said, "No! Next...now! Next now!"

At one point Bill made swim motions with his hands but kept saying "Sing" and I was really confused until I realized he wanted to do the swimming pool song. We went through that, "We Will Rock You," "Yellow Submarine," and the "Wishy Washy Washer Woman." Then, someone asked me if I liked Japan and the class turned into a bloodthirsty, shouting mob of warmongers. Kids expressed their intense hatred for Japan and made motions of shooting people and cutting throats with their Exacto knives. The Nanjing massacre (which was played down recently in the Japanese textbook which sparked the renewed rivalry) is the biggest (and only) reason for the hatred. I made a mental note to teach them "All You Need is Love" or "Give Peace a Chance."

Class 8 was nearly an identical experience minus the sabre-rattling finale. After classes, we learned the originators of the Suzhou excursion (Matt and Erin) were bailing out so Matt could play rugby on Sunday. Lame.

For dinner, Mike, Heather and I rode to Pizza House, then met Rhys and Jeni at Royal Young for coffee. I ended up playing piano for a bit because the piped-in music was ruining my vacation. It was odd to play without singing, to hear all the details in the instrumentation.

We rode back, fell asleep to Dr. Strangelove.

May 19th: beekeepers and matchsticks

Day 245

Ultraman class began singing the chorus with me almost immediately, with no prompting. They are legendary, which then makes the afternoon triple-threat much more frustrating. I went and played piano in the arts building, the fingertips on my left hand numb from the developing guitar callouses. I had to shut the door to some interlopers who thought the funniest thing in the world would be to have a "hello" war while I was playing.


The first class was lackadaisical; it's nearly time to make them sit and write a story again to get their attitudes back on track. The next, my football hooligans, were bad. About 8 of them ran to the WC to avoid doing eye exercises, so I locked them out and told them not to talk. This is the fourth time I've warned them about such tomfoolery. I began telling the class why I was angry, what the kids did when I realized I was being "that teacher," hammering the importance of being good into the very group who were already being good. I apologized, told them, "You are good students. I am not angry with you. You are good and clever. Let's have fun and make a song." That got them beaming and happy again, but they stayed somewhat taciturn for the rest of the period.

In the third and final class, my dude (I kicked out of class one time for admitting he was a bad student) had a plastic bag containing four or five bees and was tearing a hole in it, readying their freedom. I pointed and told him "outside" several times before he actually became mobile. I don't want to know how he caught them, and I damn sure didn't want them loose in class. Who knows what kind of angering and fiendish shit he had done to them. If they were pissed and wanted to sting something, they might get confused by the flowers on my Hawaiian shirt and mercilessly jab me, the very person who granted them amnesty.

Afterwards, Tabitha (from class 7) came up to me in the hallway and asked if I knew a song called "Hey Jude" and if I would sing it. "Yes I know it. It's one of my favorites. It's the Beatles."

"I know," she said.

"How....When did you hear it?"

She pondered, then shrugged. "I think I do not know." I sang the first couple verses, which drew a crowd of onlookers, then I told them I might have guests joining tomorrow (Rhys and Heather). They cheered and I took my leave, "Hey Jude" in my head.

Tree dumplings for dinner, "Matchstick Men" for cinematic joy (which spawned a debate over whether "con artist" films are their own genre. Went to sleep with the zen-like ruminating over whether insects defecate.

May 18th: a howl of rage and drag queen sequel

Day 244

Classes went well except I lost my patience in the Harry/ Monkey class. A kid in the back said something like "I sink he is in the tree." Other kids started pointing and laughing at Emnite and he shook his head.

"What did you say?" I asked, which was the wrong thing to do, since they heard Mr. Willis say "Everyone tell me what he just said but make sure you are louder than everyone else and stagger your response so it's not in unison but a big bunch of syllables and keep repeating it, increasing your volume as you do it." I had to scream at the top of my lungs and bug my eyes out to get my point across. "BE QUIET! WHEN ALL OF YOU TALK I CAN'T HEAR ANY OF YOU! I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING! I'M ASKING HIM!"

"I sink he is in the tree."

"You mean 'think'?"

"Yes, yes."

Apparently one of Emnite's aliases is "Sink" and they got caught up in the fracas. I felt like I may have burst a blood vessel in my eye from the screaming. I love that class, why do they have to be animals?

Rhys, Jeni, Heather and I ate at the sheep place for la zi ji ding, since it had been too long. There was a seafood banner out front instead of the sheep and for a monet we thought they had switched menus on us. Dinner was fab, and I had some tangent about a Chinese entrepreneur gathering runover hedgehogs, freeze drying them, spray painting them metallic gold flake and emblazoning them with the text: "Eye was run over in Haimenchina" with a word bubble emanating from the nostril spouting another bit of Chinglish nonsense like "Pop and cute."

I also had an idea of starting some goth-screamo satirical band called "The Chest Waders" and having the ethos be wearing chest waders in order to "wade through all the bullshit of existence" and then it becomes a fashionista movement, with different slogans and logos on the big rubber apparati, a picture of sullen teens at the mall all sporting unhip fishing apparel. I envision the music to be a lot of German yelling and pointing. I love my brain.

We hit the club after, since it had been a while for that as well. I went behind the pulpit and parlez'd some flow, then the floorshow started. We were seated in a booth close to the stage, far right hand side. People kept going into our space and to a mysterious door in the back. I investigated to see if maybe Russian roulette or cockfighting was taking place but it was only a poker game hosted by the owner. Stioll, everyone stood with fists of kuai like something far seedier was going on. Maybe China considers high stakes poker to be a "closed door" affair, after all, a four inch nipple hair here can be a mark of male prowess, why not?

After a female singer and a Monkey King "twirling stuff in the air" routine, another drag queen show occurred. This one wa far less bitchy than the last one, but the show was far more disturbing. A bonafide strip tease went on,and no one had taught this performer about the genital tuck, so when it got down to G string, the unsightly bulge shattered the illusion and ruined my appetite. The appeal of a drag show is to pull off the deception by immersing in the character, this one "peeled off the mask" at the end by revealing an empty hirsute bird chest. And let's not forget the bulge. (beat) Actually, let's forget the bulge.

We left as the second round of dancing was beginning, weaved and wobbled home, retired.

images are back

Pan was crafty enough to figure out how to get our images back on the blog.

cool.

speaking of images, check out what Matt the PM has done:

Nice one, matt.

May 17th: song lesson and new tent-fare obsession

Day 243

The song lesson is a smash. I cue them with a rhyme sound, like "o" or "ay" and then they shout out lines for the verses. I wrote the chorus which goes: "This is our song/ it's not very long/ if we sing it wrong/ they will send us to Hong Kong."

I've already gotten some classic lines like: "one minus one is zero," "celebrate Halloween in many ways," "I like a UFO," "this is the month to plant tomato," "this is my motto" (how metal tuff is that?) "I am hungry for bread," "I can't find my key," etc. The feeling I get when they all start singing the chorus is incredible. It sounds like a "Give Peace a Chance" kind of melody and the way a student's face lights up when they hear a line they wrote is invigorating. This is rapidly becoming my favorite lesson.

The apathy crew even got into it, and din't even mention WC like I expected. Some students didn't understand the whole "sentence" vs. "word or phrase" so I added a preface so as not to discourage them: "Noodles says 'Let's go.'" I'm going to have professional guitarist callouses by this week's end I'm certain.

After classes, I met Heather up at the place with all the CHinglish shirts and shopped around, picking up another four gems for female pals back home. They should go over well at the 80's show, so I guess the flame's under my ass to ship 'em back before then. I ate a sandwich from KFC (not proudly) then we biked back to Heather's.

While she had a dizi lesson, I watched the Muse live DVD to check if it was encoded right. The sound didn't match up, but that might be the fault of the player. At any rate, the edits were so chaotic, it was hard to tell anyway. We rounded up Rhys and Jeni for some snacks and BBoss at the tents. My new favorite thing is the fried sausage, which tastes like a bacon-wrapped after frying. The lady cuts artichoke-like slits in it before dropping it in the oil and it's a little painful to watch, considering what it resembles. "Easy there, rabbi!"

Sleep was only achieved after methodically hunting rogue mosquitos.

May 16th: punished pineapple and skeeter skermish

Day 242

Spent most of the day listening to Jenn's radio show, doing some light cleaning of my space where I rarely seem to be these days. I brought some pineapple back from the dining hall, but when I inspected it, I suspect they retrieved it from a mosh pit floor, then slapped some shorts on it and let it go nine rounds with Holyfield. Utterly bruised, completely inedible. Crappy.

I went to the middle school, had a therapeutic hot toddy, watched "Evita," since the last time I viewed it was back at the press junket premiere in Los Angeles. It's still the closest thing visually that Alan Parker has done since "Pink Floyd: The Wall" but the comparison stops there. I'd like to experiment some time and watch it with the sound down, playing The Wall album in the background, see if it syncs up.

We all ate at the tree dumpling place and for some reason the dumplings tasted like cheeseburgers. Everyone thought I was nuts, but they could taste it too, once I brought attention to it. Afterwards, I had the bright idea of throwing on "Caligula," not expecting it to be as pornographic as touted. First, it was made long ago and had major acting talent in it like Malcolm Mcdowell, Helen Mirren and Peter O' Toole. I was just expecting rampant nudity, not full-on penetration and the like. Why would they think being in this was a good idea? Would it really help their career? Some parts were accidentally funny like: "Take my horse to his own bed." We turned it off when blood entered the fray, tuned into some empty-headed fare like "Jurassic Park 3."

I rode back, guitar stuck in my backpack like a mountain biking troubadour. The next week's lesson would be encouraging them to throw out English rhymes for me and collectively writing a tune in class. Good pronunciation and "thinking in English" practice.

I tried to sleep but a mosquito kept whining into my ear just at the moment of slumber. Frustrating. I burned some incense by my bed to ward him off and in the light of the flame I saw it perched right there above my headboard. I lifted the flame to right underneath it and it either flew off or burned up, because the bastard didn't bother me the rest of the night.

Vinnie Williams and Tom Willis in CityBeat

this is a few days late, but i thought i'd mention that my friend Vinnie was featured in this week's "Under the Influence" column for CityBeat.

some of you may know Vinnie from her band Le TechnoPUSS13S; others might remember her from her spoken word piece from a DJ Empirical set at one of the Recycled Rainbow events.

regardless, check the column out, if you get a minute. she's a character for sure.


oh, and i guess i'd be remiss not to mention another friend Tom's appearance in "Under the Influence" a little while ago.

tom is McDeviltoast's brother, and one of the guys in Paperback, who played at the DJ Empirical birthday show last september.

Both photos were done by another friend, Dale, by the way. He's good people, too.

May 15th: town bike ride and mosquito concerto

Day 241

The weather broke for half the day, so Mike, Heather, and I went on a bike ride around town, Mike ahead, then behind, launching off whatever he could to achieve some air. We rode into an older section of town that gave way to a garbage-stewn stream likely teeming with mosquitos. Nearby, an odd scene of a handful of goats under the watchful eye of a Sharpe. We headed back to more developed roads and by the time we completed half a circuit our sunshine had taken an extended coffee break behind an overcast curtain.

I stopped by the post office to ship a box to my parents, and despite having shipped four boxes of Pocky not even two months ago, I was told this time I could not ship snacks. It's not like it's fruits and vegetables, these are processed favored crackers sealed and all. Captain Combover had woken up with red tape in his pomade and decided to take it out on everyone else. A guy with a vest came out, clearly outranked Combover, and said we could, then recanted a minute later. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I will not miss this about China.

Whatever form they were shoving in our face about "food bioterrorism" dated 2003, they still shipped foodtsuffs not two months distant. And it wasn't taht they just don't do it, they said it was possible in Shanghai where they have the "right stamp." China adores its red stamps, as they legitimize everything. Perhaps if I'd stamped the snacks, all would have been kosher.

Next we headed to the DVD shop, and then realized we hadn't eaten lunch. A quick trot up to the sausage noodle place revealed they had none of the regular variety. I opted for the spicy meat noodles and they were more spicy than meat. Delicious once the pain subsided.

The wind picked up a bit and I needed to change clothes so Heather and I rode back to my flat, then I went to the arts building to practice. Because the windows had been left open, mosquitos were having their annual ball in there. I would stop songs to smash a bunch between two music books. I abandoned my jacket (since the buggers are fond of dark colors) and they nauseatingly hovered and danced above it like some gravitron for insects.

I ran out of daylight and patience, cut the set short. We biked over to the hotel to join Erin, Matt and the rest of the crew. They had chicken sandwiches, but they curiously didn't have the dressing. After a few exchanges with our server guy in which he brought over butter and then jam, he informed us "may yo." The scariest part is this is a 5 star hotel.

We stopped by a mom-n-pop on the way back, got some Pop Rocks (chocolate covered, anyone?) and watched the remake of "The Manchurian Candidate." I found it neither better nor worse, both films are flawed in their own special way, but the story and concept are compelling enough to forgive them little logistical flaws and narrative gaps.

Managed to work in some sleep between coughing fits.

May 14th: Chinglish bounty and serving fiascos

Day 240

Some days are spent being productive, some are not. Some days you plan on being productive and you put some actions into motion, but nothing ever quite comes to fruition. I planned on going home and taking a shower, gather stuff to mail and then mail them off. What happened instead: I rode out to buy a couple CD cases to put DVDs into (for the mailing process).

The shop where the Chinglish-riddled cases were (like Beautiful Sausage) was no longer there. In its stead was a T-shirt boutique rife with Chinglish 80's fashion. The staff snickered at me giggling at the appalling grammar and I bought several. I figured Vinnie, Jane, Janet and whomever else could use some spare 80's trashwear for the next 80's Pop Rocks show.

The day was overcast, rainy, hideous; a good day to stay indoors, watch DVDs, drink hot toddies and nurse one's allergies, which is what we did. For dinner we went to Ming Tien for company sandwiches. After they brought the first one, we waited a full 60 minutes before they told us they could only make one additional one, not two like we ordered, and did we still want it. Mike and I were outraged. There was no way this massive blunder would fly in the western hemisphere. China is not ready for the Olympics in 2008. Their customer service report card is going to be riddled with F's and incompletes.

Heather could not eat a whole one anyhow, so it all worked out, but we still waited too long. The night ended with the original "Manchurian Candidate," but black and white films after dark put me fast asleep. I was entitled, having seen it before. Something about the softness of the film quality, the long silent pauses, the gentle score of that early 60's era; it is a potent sleeping pill. Insomniacs: try it sometime.

May 13th: kick vs. cake and allergy woes

Day 239

In the first class, I had to kick out Sleepy LaBeef because he refused to give any information about his mother. I had to make an example of him or else every student would bypass the exercise by saying "secret." Very Angry was in good spirits today and when I asked what he gave his mother on Mother's Day, he replied, "kick."

"What?"

"A kick."

"Kick? You're a bad son!"

I wrote "kick" on the board and he shook his head. "No, no. no. 'C-A.'"

Ah. "Cake?"

The students nodded in unison. I laughed. Very Angry asked, "What is?" pointing at the K word. I demonstrated and the whole class barked a hyena chorus of mirth. "Yes, you do not want to give your mother a kick for Mother's Day. That would be very boo hao."

The day was damp and somewhat filthy. My allergies were bumping. I had uncontrollable sneezing fits and coughed my way through some classes. Spring time in Haimen is rife with pollen, but we also get a wind off the river, which inevitably carries the dust and pollution of the factories lining it. Class 8 had its fair share of coughers as well. I guess it's just a fact of life.

Class 7 had me give them English names, so I doled out Ellen, Sandra and Tabitha to join Bill and Pepto. Class 8 had me sing "All Together Now," "Wishy Washy Washer Woman," and two choruses of "We Will Rock You" before I could depart. They wanted me to sing "Titanic song" and a girl came up, put an mp3 headphone to my ear, but I'd sooner drag my scrotum across six miles of broken glass than belt out that repugnant track.

Classes over, I straightened my room a bit, listened to some CDs Dana had sent me, waited for the clouds to stop deploying their droplet paratroopers. I rode out to Shishan Lu, picked up some DVDs, then on to Times for some hot toddy ingredients (what better to soothe a throat under duress?) ran into Mike who was content to ride his bike further into the rain.

The tree place was out of everything we enjoyed, so we got some tent fare. I had already eaten a little at our mess hall, so I nibbled the big hash brown thing. We watched "Toy Story 2" (although the cover read "Yoy Story 2") and I fell asleep at the climax, rockabyed by whiskey and honey.

A PROPOSAL FOR A SYSTEM TO REPLACE ORDINARY RECORD MERCHANDISING

Who was smart? My hero, Frank.

A PROPOSAL FOR A SYSTEM TO REPLACEORDINARY RECORD MERCHANDISING

- copyright 1983 by Frank Zappa -

Ordinary phonograph record merchandising as it exists today is a stupid process which concerns itself essentially with pieces of plastic, wrapped in pieces of cardboard.

These objects, in quantity, are heavy and expensive to ship. The manufacturing process is complicated and crude. Quality control for the stamping of the discs is an exercise in futility. The system is subject to pilferage (as, in some instances, pressing 'over-runs' have been initiated, with the quantity pressed above the amount of the legitimate order removed from the premises and sold on the black market).

Dissatisfied customers routinely return records because they are warped and will not play.

Large numbers of people are employed in the field of 'record promotion' . . . these salaries are, for the most part, a waste of money.

New digital technology may eventually solve the warpage problem and provide the consumer with better quality sound in the form of Compact Discs [C.D.'s]. They are smaller, contain more music, and would, presumably cost less to ship . . . but, they are much more expensive to buy and manufacture. To reproduce them, the consumer needs to purchase a digital device to replace his old hi-fi equipment (in the $700 price range).

The bulk of the promotional effort at every record company today is expended on "NEW MATERIAL" . . . the latest and the greatest of whatever the cocaine-tweezed A&R Brass has decided to inflict on everybody. More often than not, these 'aesthetic decisions' result in mountains of useless vinyl/cardboard artifacts which cannot be sold at any price, and are therefore returned for disposal and recycling. These mistakes are expensive.

Put aside momentarily the current method of operation and think what is being wasted in terms of GREAT CATALOG ITEMS, squeezed out of the market place because of limited rack space in retail outlets, and the insatiable desire of quota-conscious company reps to fill every available niche with THIS WEEK'S NEW
RELEASES.

Every major record company has vaults full of (and perpetual rights to) great recording by major artists in many categories which might still provide enjoyment to music consumers if they were made available in the right way. MUSIC CONSUMERS LIKE TO CONSUME MUSIC . . . NOT PIECES OF VINYL WRAPPED IN PIECES OF CARDBOARD.

It is our proposal to take advantage of the POSITIVE ASPECTS of a NEGATIVE TREND afflicting the record industry today: HOME TAPING via cassette of material released on vinyl.

First of all, we must realize that the taping of albums is not motivated by 'stinginess' alone . . . if a consumer makes a home tape from a disc, that copy will probably sound better than a commercially manufactured high-speed dupe cassette, legitimately
released by the company.

People today enjoy music more than ever before, and, they like to take it with them wherever they go. THEY CAN HEAR THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GOOD AUDIO AND BAD AUDIO . . . THEY CARE ABOUT THAT DIFFERENCE, AND THEY ARE WILLING TO GO TO SOME TROUBLE AND EXPENSE TO HAVE HIGH QUALITY 'PORTABLE AUDIO' TO USE AS 'WALLPAPER FOR THEIR LIFESTYLE'.

THE ANSWERS TO PERPLEXING QUESTIONS

presenting: "Q.C.I."

We propose to acquire the rights to digitally duplicate and store THE BEST of every record company's difficult-to-move Quality Catalog Items [Q.C.I.], store them in a central processing location, and have them accessible by phone or cable TV, directly patchable into the user's home taping appliances, with the option of direct digital-to-digital transfer to F-1 (SONY consumer level digital tape encoder), Beta Hi-Fi, or ordinary analog cassette (requiring the installation of a rentable D-A converter in the phone itself . . . the main chip is about $12).

All accounting for royalty payments, billing to the customer, etc. would be automatic, built into the initial software for the system.

The consumer has the option of subscribing to one or more Interest Categories, charged at a monthly rate, without regard for the quantity of music he or she decides to tape.

Providing material in such quantity at a reduced cost could actually diminish the desire to duplicate and store it, since it would be available any time day or night.

Monthly listings could be provided by catalog, reducing the on-line storage requirements of the computer. The entire service would be accessed by phone, even if the local reception is via TV cable.

The advantage of the TV cable is: on those channels where nothing ever seems to happen (there's about 70 of them in L.A.), a visualization of the original cover art, including song lyrics, technical data, etc., could be displayed while the transmission is in progress, giving the project an electronic whiff of the original point-of-purchase merchandising built into the album when it was 'an album', since there are many consumers who like to fondle & fetish the packaging while the music is being played. In this situation, Fondlement & Fetishism Potential [F.F.P.] is supplied, without the cost of shipping tons of cardboard around.

We require a LARGE quantity of money and the services of a team of mega-hackers to write the software for this system. Most of the hardware devices are, even as you read this, available as off-the-shelf items, just waiting to be plugged into each other so they can put an end to "THE RECORD BUSINESS" as we now know it.

yes.

he wrote that in 1983, over 20 years ago.

May 12th: star pupils and color wolves

Day 238

As I was walking to lunch, Lu Jian, my star pupil in the Ultraman class said to me, "When I grow up, I want to go to America and see you." He rocks. I said, "Yeah, we'll party. I'll wait for you."

"Utah, right?"

"Right."

He pays attention in class, always takes notes before I even say to, and just generally sets an example that all junior 2 students aren't demons. When he says he'll come visit me, I believe him, believe IN him.

The middle class of afternoon triple threat: some students before class began were asking me about my bracelet. I told them, "A Chinese girl gave to me. Feng Jao Li." They raised their eyebrows, started saying "Color, color."

"What?"

"You are color wolf."

Ah. The direct translation of "player" in Chinese is "color wolf." I instructed them that no one in America has ever used the phrase "color wolf."

"It's 'player' guys."

So when it came time for the class to tell me about their mother, one slacker student looked toward his mates for help and they fed him an answer: "My mother's job is 'player.'"

The students who knew cracked up. I asked the slacker, "Your mother is a player?" He nodded. "So your mother is a color wolf?" The whole class erupted in cackling and the slacker started punching the answer-feeder. That'll make him hesitant to fish for answers. I should actually encourage people to give wrong answers to ridicule the lazy students.

I took an allergy pill that made me loagy and didn't end up getting to the middle schooluntil after 6pm. Mike, Jeni and I had some Muslim noodles. Heather was feeling a bit rough, so I ordered her to steam in her bathroom. We watched "Batman Forever" mainly because I had missed the opening part back when I saw it in the theater and needed that sense of completion.

When it came out, I was working at Graeter's and me and Jeff Hargraves did our closing work with urgency so we could get out to the Showcase in Norwood to catch a late showing. I ended up driving in circles for a bit because I was still unfamiliar with the Norwood lateral. I was looking for the theater on the left hand side,not realizing that entering from I-71 would put it on the right side. I was full of dumb and it cost us the first part of the film.

It's still just a lousy movie, beginiing intact or no. Joel Schumacher tailored it to be more like the camp TV show, and this was back in the day where Jim Carrey overacted everything. Blech.

Sleep inevitably grabbed my brain with both grey-gloved claws, but only after subjecting me to the whole film.

May 11th: a Wednesday of no consequence

Day 237

Classes went well. I had to kick out one kid who was stonewalling, grinding my precious classtime to a halt. I counted down to five, then ordered him out. The rest of the students were golden after that. The other three classes I played the matching game with, since the "big show" two weeks before cut short the fun.

After lunch I infiltrated the arts building and got to go through a few songs before Feng Jao Li kicked me out. Something about teh acoustics in that place is perfect. I can hear piano and voice equally and I go into a sort of zen state, not being aware of what my hands are doing and the words flow automatically.

The last class, I had a few minutes to kill, so in Monkey's honor I put on "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me & My Monkey" but the vocals were unintelligible on the TV's speakers. The highlight of Monkey's middle school career and it's upsot by faulty wiring. Crappy.

I rode up to the middle school to discover the rest of the crew wanted to eat at the hotel. I could have met them there and saved myself a ride. Oh well. Exercise is always good. I belted out Queen's "Bicycle Race" at passing pedestrians. I love this country. I can do the nuttiest shit and always get the same passive reaction.

The hotel actually had the legendary chicken sandwich for once, but were out of a few other things and half of their dessert list. Mike suggested they rename themselves "May yo fandian" (Hotel "Not Have"). Heather's bike got a flat, so she took a cab back, the rest of us rode the scenic route. We happened upon Nigel's wife, swinging her arms like a maniac in the night.

Once back at the school, we watched "The Untouchables" and I picked up on the phrase "vast undeclared monies" (cheers, Sean) during the trial scene. Heather, who is used to low calorie film fare, bit off one of her nails in stress. Breathed in steam in Heather's bathroom (so as not to wake up clogged) and turned in.

May 10th: Mother's Day lesson

Day 236

The lesson this week is having the students list information about their mother: name, age, job, and why they love their mother. Some responses: "Because she loves me." "Because she gives me money and takes me shopping." "Because she is very beautiful and clever." "Because she is kind to everything." Then we listen to "Your Mother Should Know" and "Mother Nature's Son" (those ubiquitous Beatles) and they pick out English words they recognize and write them down. Fun class all around.

One class was adamant about giving information saying "secret, secret." I wrote down on the board 16 (as in classes that I taught) multiplied by 33 (students per class roughly) and then told them since I didn't even know half of their own names there would be no way in hell I would recall 518 Chinese mother names and information so STOP BEING FOOLISH! They continued to give me fake names, that was fine as long as they were speaking English. Plus, it gave me the opportunity to make fun of them. "Why are you looking at him for help? You don't even know your own mother's name?! You are a bad son!"

In the apathy crew, I had to kick out four guys, including Smalls. The other three were crafty "go to the WC to avoid eye exercise" hooligans, so I locked them out. After classes, I rode up to the middle school, hung out with Mike and Heather for a while. We ate tree dumplings and Rock joined us, but didn't eat because they were out of veggie ones. We went to Times for small stuff, but I ended up getting two funnyass Chinglish shirts on the third floor: onewith a skull on it framed by the mysterious phrase "Orange Down", the otehr a tattooed, smoking sword-wielder with the ultra-badass phrase "Everything is Fine." That's the toughest comment they could couple with it I guess.

We had some drinks, watched "Shaolin Soccer" (the Stephen Chow film right before "Kung Fu Hustle") turned in.

"I couldn't wait no longer...."

Posts like this one are why I love dooce.

May 9th: standing at the 8 week mark

Day 235

Officially 8 weeks to go before I'm back. I love it here, but there's a group summeritis vibe emanating. The May holiday only "roused my appetite without beddin' 'er back down." That feeling of outgrowing Haimen returned as soon as the "back home" vibe waned. It's a feeling akin to rainy days when you're running around the house going stir crazy, contemplating if playing a board game by yourself is healthy, having a few options of what to do and not fancying any of them.

I rode out to the arts building to practice songs, but that just fueled the eagerness to get back and record them. The alienation here is becoming suffocating. I ride by people and I just want to say "Ok, drop the act! You can speak English, end this charade." It's like everyone's an extra in my movie and the director is playing an extended joke on me.

Watched "Wallace and Gromit," then "Sideways," which struck a few nerves with me. Very poignant, very human film. Alexander Payne's films keep getting better, he's really found a niche. Rhys thought it was longish (we all did) and teased him "It's because there weren't any explosions or chase scenes."

Went to sleep a little sadstruck from the film and the looming deadline I have with China.

revisiting great films

so, one of the benefits of dating someone who enjoys films but hasn't seen many is you get to revisit many great films that you may not have watched again any time soon, somewhat under the pretense of "educating" that person.

that being said, Andrea and I watched Memento this weekend. i havent really figured out her tastes yet, but on the other hand, she hasnt hated anything we've watched, either, so i thought i'd try memento out on her.

i havent seen it for at least a year, and quite frankly, i'd forgotten how good it is! for the uninitiated, the film is told in (mostly) reverse chronological order, with some back story scenes interspersed in chronological order (and in black & white to help minimize confusion). it's a testament to chris nolan's writing that despite seeing the "ending" right at the front of the film, there's not only a "conclusion" at the end of the film, it's satisfying and interesting, and rewarding upon repeat viewings.

i have the limited edition 2-dvd, and one of the features is a chronological edit of the film. to access it, though, you have to traverse no less than half a dozen (and closer to ten) dvd menu screens, with a puzzle at the end (Nolan really went all out on the packaging for this thing!). i watched probably a third of the chronological edit. the black & white back story is about half an hour, and focuses largely on the Sammy Jankis stuff. i'll watch the rest later this week, i think.

we also watched Leon (aka The Professional). it's an odd landmark for me, this film: it's where i first saw Natalie Portman (who i think was unfortunately at her peak here), it's where i first heard of Luc Besson, the director, and it's where i first really became aware of Gary Oldman. we watched the "european edition", which restores something like 24 minutes to the american version i'd initially seen a decade ago.

it's a great film, with a good amount of "head stuff" (character development, etc), which i usually need in an action film for me to buy it. as i said, portman's at her peak here, in my opinion, and the restored scenes (esp. the restaurant scene) really show it. oldman's good, too, though he's been better elsewhere. reno is great as Leon, as well -- his voice just kills me.

oh, and the trivia section on imdb.com reveals this:

According to Luc Besson's first script-draft, Léon's full name is Leone Montana.

awesome.

next on andrea's movie education curriculum: the blues brothers. :)

server change » blog weirdness

my dude Pan, who drives SR (the host of this and all the quahogs-ent sites), just changed the server again (he had unforseen hardware issues the first time a few weeks back).

unfortunately, one of the features of the new server is a weblog service which, unbeknownst to anyone, clashed with how i'd set up this blog. so, for the past few days, the blog has been gone. luckily, things are almost back to normal. you'll notice that there's a new URL, and it's shorter, so that's cool.

the images are all down, though. pan's trying to figure a fix, but until then: suck.

May 8th: mellow veg time

Day 234

Day spent mostly lying down watching new DVDs, sorting through pictures to upload. The bloody mary mix was not as good as hoped.

May 7th: Haimen again, jiggedy jig

Day 233

We woke, checked out, joked about the phone incident from the day before. Ethan had recommended a place to get sandwiches, so we cabbed it there and gorged oursleves. I had roast beef and cheese with mustard, lettuce and tomato on a baguette. It wasn't good "for China." It was good universally. (To the Western ear, the above sandwich may sound basic and unimpressive, but try going without for over 7 months. It becomes luxury.)

We got a bus to Haimen, got off in Nantong to grab a bite with Erin and Matt, spin tales of our adventures. Then, on to Haimen where we caught up with the crew, told the stories again, watched DVDs and passed out, encircled by familiarity and a relief to finally be back.

May 6th: Nanjing and raised hackles

Day 232

We arrived in Nanjing at 7:30am, stomachs fully recovered, well rested, though we moved to slowly for the train staff. We were told twice to hurry and get off. The train station was in muddy renovation in all directions. We caught a cab by the grand lake, had him take us to a temple that although the buildings were nice and the layout impressive, were filled with gaudiness. There's a law of diminishing returns with elegance. If you heap it on, the opposite effect happens and you end up with Vegas chintz. "Make-up makes me pretty, so lots of make-up will make me lots of pretty!"

We went at the right time. As we were leaving, tour group hordes were beginning to mass at the entrance. We sought a hotel for shower and rest. After lounging in our room and watching Chinese television, we ventured for sustenance and ended up near some marketplace who-knows-where.

After some kung pao ji ding, we toured the markets and I picked up a couple classic Chinglish shirts for friends back home. I was walking ahead when I heard Heather say "Hey!" I spun and she had a girl by the arm. The girl's boyfriend had his arm around her the other way and to the casual observer it might have looked as if they were fighting over her. The couple was looking down like students being disciplined. I think I asked her what was going on and Heather demanded something back from her. The girl shifted and Heather's cell phone dropped to the ground. Heather retrieved it, yelled at her in Chinese. The two stood there for a couple seconds, still looking like bad students (they were quite young) then did a 180 and stepped up their pace.

I think I pointed at them and said "boo hao." A shopkeeper said something and Heather said something back(in Chinese): "She stole my phone!" To which the shopkeeper replied, "You shouldn't have had it in your pocket." So it's Heather's fault?! The shopkeeper lady was lucky Heather didn't haul off and slap her, her hackles were up, adrenaline going and all.

We took a cab out of there, Heather with an iron grip on her phone. I congratulated her on the way she handled herself and assured her that even if she didn't slap the thief nor turn them over to the authorities (our word against theirs even though there were witnesses and we're not Chinese) she destroyed their confidence which is the most damaging thing you can do to a pickpocket. They can't case that place anymore because shopkeepers talk, and they'll second-guess themselves the next time they reach for someone's pocket.

We went back to the hotel, lounged some more, then met Ethan and Mung Yi at an expat bar. I'm afraid we couldn't offer very good company. We were still a little drained from the partying in Beijing, plus the train ride and the energy expenditure of thwarting crime. Dining zombies, I wot.

Afterwards we went to a DVD place, got a few things, bid adieu and went back to the hotel, crashed.

a Tone-Loc tidbit

i got this in my latest popbitch gossip email:

>> Ice and slice, Tone? <<>

The US producers of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here contacted Tone Loc to see if he'd appear as a contestant. His reply was to fax them a copy of his 2004 tax return, showing more than $1.5m in post-tax earnings.

Tone Loc credits George Hamilton for showing him how to build a well-diversified
portfolio of commercial and residential property.

sweet. even if he's not all that well respected as a rapper (not having actually written his hits), at least he still has the dough.

May 5th: debauch fallout

Day 231

Woke to the sounds of the wind like a banshee using a skull megaphone to summon the wailing minions of Hades to march. My stomach felt like a rusted radiator with a teenager's phone cord tied around it. All of us kind of stumbled around taking turns with the bathroom trying to piece together exactly what point the night declared war on our guts.

We ended up leaving at 1pm. We said goodbye to Simon at a bus stop, took a bus to some markets across from Temple of Heaven. I shopped mainly to take my mind off my stomach, found some fun stuff here and there. We rested outside and nibbled some bread, braved the hordes for a bit more.

We took our wrung-rag pitiful selves over to Temple of Heaven and lay in the grass on our towels for a good part of the afternoon, looking up at kites in the sky and praying for stomach relief. When we had suffieciently rested we walked around the Temple's grounds, dodging trinket peddlers with rugby-like moves.

We killed time first with coffee, then we tried to have a smoothie at a Dairy Queen (weird) but they made it with soft serve ice cream which ruined it. Night had fallen and the wind was making everything somewhat chilly. With a couple hours before our train took off, we shrugged and went to the train station. In front of a giant TV screen, people were sitting and waiting out the minutes. Haether and I did the same, playing cards. A woman near us was eating noodles out of a Sprite bottle and taking notes on what was showing on TV. We thought she had secured then title of biggest freak in the place until....

This other woman shows up, begins unfolding scraps of the most beat-down newspaper she could collect and establishes a beach head right next to us. Heather and I move slightly, give her some crazy room, but it's not enough. She flops down on her nesting material with the all the grace of a flipped-over tortoise, throws gang signs at the TV, barks some slogans at it. We continue playing. Then, she gets on her knees and vomits on the floor. We jump to our feet. "That's it. You win," I told the woman. She marked her territory, it's hers.

We pack into the waiting area; a stuffy insane space crammed with humans and luggage. So tired, so sick of feeling stomach pain. I just wanted to crawl into my soft sleeper bunk and slep it off. After many deep breaths,the train boarded, and I had to regulate some shovers with a stiff elbow. The train was not going to leave without them, why shove? They're lucky there was no room to drop them to the floor and bury my shoe in their neck.

The bunks were soft and nice and fate bestowed no cabinmates. Slept like children after a day at the fair.

May 4th: Debeijingauchery

Day 230

We woke at 11am, thinking it was much earlier and probably could have slept for a few hours more had it not been for the voices and doorslams in the hallway. We checked out and began the process of trying to recruit a bus to take us back. They waved us off, saying they didn't do that and they didn't know the gentleman, that he wasn't affiliated with the tour company. That rat bastard.

A cabbie took us to a bus stop in a place that looked oddly like Mexico. From there, we rode back to Beijing, me bumpily trying to catch up on writing. A gent stood over me and practiced his English, asked the standard questions. When he got off, he told Heather and I "This is my destiny" but he meant "destination." He left before I could correct him. We got off a bit later near some formidable attraction (West Wing) that upon inquiry was a coin museum.

We hopped a Metro further into town, which by the way, the subway system is nowhere near ready for the Olympics in 2008. Nothing is automated. It's still ridiculous queues for paper tickets that porters tear at the gate. After a light noodle and rice lunch, we hopped a city bus to meet Simon AKA Gao Fei, Heather's ex. He met us on the street, a tall English bloke with blue specs. He led us to Ryan's work (another English English teacher) where a party-mixer for those learning English was occuring. We endured KTV, a woman showing pictures, and some interactive games, I was made to croon "Say You, Say me" and "Pretty Woman" with Ryan.

Time wore on and it was announced that the party was over twice before it actually did. The second time they announced the party was over, the host girl said she would leave us with a "beautiful English song." Man, did she lie. It was "Take Me To Your Heart" by (shudder) Michael Learns to Rock (yes, that's actually the name of the group). I excused myself to the bathroom and hid from the awfulness until it blew over.

We went to Ryan's place on the 19th floor of a high rise. On the way in, Simon stole a toilet tank lid from one in the hallway, having broken Ryan's earlier. I'm getting used to seeing drywall and disrepair in hallways now. It's standard. We had some much-needed decompression beers, then went out for some hot pot that Ryan said was the cat's pajamas. It was. There was a sesame paste that you put the meat into after that set it off. The restaurant had some really cool decor as well: each table was encapsuled in its own bamboo cage with beaded entryway.

Ryan's girlfriend joined us: a 30 year old Chinese divorcee who ended up paying for everything that night. We went to a club called Mix near the Workers Stadium and I had a blast. The music and decor was top notch. Ryan's girlfriend bought a bottle of Chivas Regal which we mixed with green tea (a popular China concoction that goes down a little too smooth). I got my dance on and left shortly before it closed. We watched Ryan's Robbie Williams DVD for a while and when I looked at my watch and saw it was 4:30am, I decided to crash.

May 3rd: Beijing duck and the Great Ring

Day 229

We woke at 6am, an hour before the stop in Beijing, reassembled our carryables, tried to look presentable and headed out. Our first destination was Tienanmen Square and I got some choice pictures of Darby flipping in front of various monuments. We plunged into the Forbidden city next, since it was right across the street, but the volume of people and sheer redundancy of the attraction made us abort before we actually had to cough up some kuai. It's a long way before they try to charge, so we got a few pictures and shoved off.

After looping around, we quested for the underground city, a lesser-known attraction lurking in the old traditional neighborhoods of Beijing. The neighborhoods and backstreets were charming, filled with narrow, old world switchbacks, glimpses of courtyard-centered dwellings, hanging laundry and floodlight bits of sunshine spilling through the haunts. Adorably quaint. Heather would question elder Chinese folk every few blocks who kept pointing us on.

We wound around and eventually found it, with a small queue of wei guo ren spilling onto the street. We inadvertently got stapled to a Danish tour group and I got one snapshot of the tunnels before I was told "no pictures." The underground city was Mao's overreaction to the age of nuclear scare: a Hitler-like bunker with tunnels spanning everywhere under Beijing. The "city" seemed mostly tunnels with the occasional offshoot tiny room labeled "hospital" or "armory" or "elderly recreation center."

In a surreal moment reminiscent of that scene in "Pink Floyd: The Wall" where young Pink discovers old insane Pink in an asylum that cannot possibly be underground, we were thrust into a silk factory with adjoining gift shops, as gaudy and brightly lit as everything ten meters above us. Our guide went on to extoll the virtues of emperor's silk, the product of two worms in the same cocoon, a stronger bigger etc. Then he ran down a list of different quilts and colors and prices and the tour had suddenly subverted into an infomercial. "Military ga ga, military blah-blah, makes a fabulous gift for summer or winter..." Huh? Trickery.

After sanctioned shopping time, the tour concluded, and once topside we went to sample the city's best Beijing duck(so swore our guide). The queue outside was so massive, you'd think they were waiting to coo over Mao's waxy corpse. After a few minutes' wait, we were led to two empty seats at a table with a trio of folks nearly done with their meal.

Beijing duck is sliced roast duck, put into a rice tortilla/pancake, outfitted with some mild onion shoots that resemble baby whale ribs, and slathered at your discretion with a dark salty-sweet hoisin paste. Damn fine stuff. The trio left and we slid over, made room for another couple appointed to our table, like a wedding reception with no guests of honor nor knot-tyers. We toasted them, then left, our seats quickly replaced with ravenous queuers.

Next we hunted fruitlessly for a blanket or sheet to camp on the Great Wall with. All we could find were slightly large hand towels and we secured five of them, shrugging. Then came the search for a bus to take us to Simatai (the less-touristy section of the Wall) but at that time of day, we could only arrange a cab to go to Badaling (the hatin'it tourist section) but we aimed to hike away from the crap and not let it ruin our vacation. With the promise and business card of a chap who told us we could ride a tour bus back free of charge, we got into the lady's cab.

She led us down a road parallel to the expressway, but much slower, and we arrived at Badaling a few hours before sunset. Perhaps due to the lateness of the day, it wasn't scrotum-popping crowded, which was nice. We paid, began trekking up the stone monster that snaked over the ridge. I did not expect it to be that challenging, but there were parts that were well nigh vertical, some steps four bricks high, steep as hell. There were no kiosks hocking gumfoil trinkets because there was no way to get them up there. The view was nice once we reached the top of the ridge, and the challenge only lessened minutely. The rolling steepness was even harder on the calves than the steps. We hiked for a bit then curiously reached a dead end. No crumbling parts beyond, or even a sign of the wall distant. From that vantage pint we could see a looping part for the far ridge, but no wall beyond. I assumed and hoped it went on over the ridge where we couldn't see. The wall couldn't be just a detached loop.

We hiked over to the far ridge, daylight shrinking off the mountainsides like evaporating frost. The wall was a detached loop. How completely disillusioning. Not only was the view of a long snaking structure nowhere in sight, but this also meant plans for sleeping on the wall had to be scrapped. The attraction was patrolled inside the loop and aside from that we saw a snake and some quasi-mosquitos that would have kept us awake with worry.

So began the trek down off the wall, the whole vast loop of it completed, limbs aching, a few pounds sweated off. A hotel lay at the valley floor between the two ridges and it took some false starts to reach it. They thankfully had rooms available. The notion of a shower and a bed was more powerful than hunger. The hotel was done in a traditional series-of-courtyards style, and ours was about nine sections from the front desk.

After showers, we lounged for a bit and eventually wandered up to the main courtyard where it appeared some kind of barbecue was going on. We investigated, but it was not as cool as it looked. (Some odd chicken hearts and half a corncob on sticks). The large group of Euro tourists had disappeared, so Heather and I shrugged and went back to our room.

Completely exhausted, I offered no resistance when sleep's army invaded my skull.

May 2nd: from Shanghai to Beijing

Day 228

We the bleary and shuffling assembled at ten 'til 6, a giant coffee and Bailey's keeping my waking self afloat and pleasant. The bus we boarded was extremely new and so apparently was our driver. He stalled it a few times before even leaving the car park, and always wanted to throw it into third gear first. He eventually got the hang of it and zipped us to teh ferry.

The morning was hazy and sunny, getting increasingly more beautiful, like a woman shedding a gossamer scarf from her throat. We got off the bus, stractehed our legs a bit, went topside and took in the view of the river expanse. I got the ferry skipper to yank a mighty blast on the horn all trucker style.

Once in Shanghai, we walkedto the Metro and people were packed in like hogs to slaughter. Abandoning courtesy and politeness, which doesn't exist in the Chinese subway realm anyhow, Heather and I were able to bully our way in with elbows and heaved backpacks. The others were not so aggressive and stood on the ramp, twice unsuccesful. Tiny holes were among the madding crowds with toddlers dropped into the absence like rounds in mortar tubes. One stood with his face an inch from my ass, and had I let out some sirloin night wheels, he'd have been dead in seconds, still standing since there was nowhere to collapse to.

We waited for the others three trains after, then got a text message from Mike saying they'd gotten a cab and would meet us at Mister Donut. The sheer volume of madness and faces made us abandon any hope of visiting the history museum, skipping directly to errand running. Mike and I picked up a couple Cuban cigars (no embargo here!) then walked to a a western supermarket in search of luxuries like cheese and Bloody Mary mix. I picked up other treats along the way then headed to Istanbul, on Matt and Erin's recommendation.

Erin had said there were hookahs and belly dancers, but finding none, we assumed it happened only at night or Erin was talking crap again. (She still insists there's an omelet station at the Haimen hotel). Chuck was able to join us, and it was good to see him again.We reminisced about Suzhou, but mostly asked him about points of interest in Beijing.

The food at Istanbul was delicious, I had stuffed grape leaves, savory meat paste on pita, rice pudding; ending with the Cuban stogie and authentic Turkish coffee (half of which cannot be drunk because it's ground sludge.)

Chuck then took us to the French Quarter marketplace and showed us the best DVD booth, then we had to split from the group and catch the train. Chuck chaperoned us through the Metro (eerily vacant considering it was rush hour, nothing like the morning madness from before) then we thanked him for his help and ventured into the holiday-frenzied mobs of a Chinese train station. While waiting, we chatted with a Scottish bloke named David, showed him the ropes of boarding, reading the ticket and such, along with teaching him some elementary pu tong hua like "ni hao" and "pijou."

Next door there were English teachers from Beijing, two American girls (Holly and Amanda) and their Chinese friend (Lillian) who was not used to being stared at by her own countrymen. I was surprised at their age, they could not have been more than 21. I took a picture for them since their 4th cabinmate was antisocial, and we chatted briefly about America and teaching. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask their age, but I didn't want to seem like I was hitting on them. I probably looked like haggard disheveled psycho since I'd been up since 5 am.

Our own cabinmates were entertaining: James, an economics employee who parroted periodic bits of our conversation, and Mary a sales engineer who giggled incessantly behind a coy palm. Somehow a joke got started that she was a model fro KFC and that got both of us yukking it up for a while. As I was explaining a Fudgie and Fufu song to Heather, James repeated me saying "Fucking shark shark" and I went into hysterics. The combination of early waking, Reeb and hearing a Chinese person say "fucking shark shark" propelled me into a tear-inducing fit of laughter, the likes of which I haven't had in a long time.

I caught up on writing so I wouldn't get behind, then fatigue, plus the gentle rocking of the train succored my strength, wrapped me in a warm drowsy crepe. I listened to Failure's "Fantastic Planet" a couple times, then fell fast asleep.

May 1st: holiday trip prep

Day 227

Woke, had Muslim noodles with Mike and Heather. The weather was acting a bit filthy; threatening to spit rain, but then losing interest if anything fell. I borrowed a wrench from Mike and at last lowered my bike seat, which was up so high it clung by hope alone. It took two tools to get it down which was frustrating, but the mom-n-pop team outside the gate assisted, along with Heather, and success was achieved.

I rode home and packed for the trip, slimming down my supplies to absolute bare minimums (for me) and fit everything into my backpack, with room to spare for souvenirs. Heather needed my headphones for her mp3 player and as I was about to pack them, I decided to try my CD player, purely for shits and giggles, and the bastard worked! Huzzah!

I packed some CDs, headed over to the arts building and ran through the repertoire, not knowing if I'd get a chance to play piano on the trip. I discovered a possible chorus melody for an old unfinished song that I plan to give to the LonesomeTumblers.

I rode back to the middle school, debated about dinner. Rhys and Jeni were feeling rough. The night before, they stayed out at the tents until 4:30 am, draining the kegs and then starting on the bottles. Not the cleverest move considering they had an early afternoon wedding to attend the next day. Rhys knocked on Heather's door for headache remedy before they left (Jeni seemed in much better condition), and when we knocked about dinner, he was breaking out of his post-wedding nap chrysalis (Jeni on phone to father).

Mike, Heather and I rode to Ming Tien, not expecting our spent UK pals to join, but they did. Rhys and I both had steak with zesty black pepper sauce. It came with a seafood chowder that I was enjoying until I found a perfectly red and intact octopus pal floating in it. We took him out, cleaned him off, gave him a napkined plate burial.

A couple boys started interrogating Mike and one commented that my hairstyle was odd but lovely. It's a hair LINE, kid. Like anyone would purposefully shave Nixon-like power alleys into their pate. Two women behind us had awful dyed-n-fried hair, and were hellbent on screeching nasal chit-chat into their cellphones. When they at last left, everything was peaceful, but we learned they had requested to turn the AC down, and the heat and dim light was making the whole group loagy. Once outside riding in the night air, we eagerly supped the cool air.

The big TV at the gate was playing footage from the grand gala in Beijing welcoming the World Ping Pong tournament (which Rhys quipped "is probablyheld in China EVERY year.")Weird nightmare-inducing shit like dolphin-suits and ball costumes dancing to some tune about "endless night" and "genial spring." I was led away thankfully by my full bladder, but Rhys and jeni stayed and subjected themselves to ten more minutes of it, causing irreperable psyche harm.

Heather and I watched "American Pie" (Jesus is that film overrated) then retired, both dreading and delightfully anticipatingthe 5:10 am alarm that would signal the beginning of holiday proper.