Today was the day which I awaited in anticipation for quite some time now. Today was the highly-publicized table tennis match pitting this lowly Canadian wordsmith against the wily veteran Father-In-Law. I had better bring my A-game too. I’d been talking some big talk, now let’s see if I could walk a big walk. I made sure to eat a good meal the night before, get plenty of rest, and skip breakfast the day of the big match. It's like Johnny Cash used to say to his band The Tennessee Three, “Always play hungry”.
Well, maybe I should have eaten my oatmeal with a straw this morning because I was sure sucking it up now. This man was clearly well-practiced. My wife told me that he plays every day. In fact, his dining room table converts to a ping pong table if you just put the leaf in. I was no match for his ping pong prowess. I hung my head in defeat today, for the first time in a while. I don't feel too bad though. He was obviously going easy on me, and I actually kept up for a little while. That is until he started unleashing his big smash on me, or a stupifying topspin shot that left me scratching my head with ping pong perplexity. He could actually make the ball bounce in a totally different direction than where it came from.
After my humiliation, my wife and I started changing up, rallying with Dad until he got bored and tried letting us win. A few older, retired guys were watching us, and decided that my Father-In-Law was easy bait, and swooped in for a challenge. What they didn't know, was that he was once district champion in these parts, and was only putting on a show with us so he could shark these guys and send them off with their paddles between their legs. (I could have used balls there, but that would be downright perverted. I refuse to tarnish the good name of table tennis for the sake of a testicle joke, thank you very much.)
Father-In-Law destroyed the first challenger handily, beating him in straight games. They play games to 11, in a best-of-five series. Father-In-Law won the first game 11-3, then 11-6. Next! I had been watching his next challenger play for a while. His unique serving technique caught my eye over on the other side of the room. This dude might actually make Dad break a sweat! I think Father-In-Law read my mind, because he stripped down to his undershirt before taking on challenger #2. I was right about his serving technique. He was throwing down the spin-shots too. Father-In-Law was up to the test though, dishing out unstoppable power-shots one after another. The final tally had Father-In-Law up 2 games to 1, and thus he was crowned grand champion of the Friday morning retirees and people with nothing better do with their time. Heck, I was there, and I'm not retired. Although I may just have to retire from the world of ping pong while I still have my pride. It's the classy thing to do.
I told Father-In-Law that I will practice hard before our next meeting so that I can at least give him some competition. He laughed. It’s gonna take a lot of practice for me to get up to his level. Around 40 or 50 years I’d say. But hey, I've got nothing better to do. My dining room table is just begging to be turned into a playing field of some sort. It's either that or a giant Wheel of Fortune, and I don't think we could get Vanna White at such short notice. I don't know of any household-name Ping Pongers, so that being said, one of them should be free to drop by and teach yours truly how to take on Yoda, and become the King of the Ping.
Friday, March 7, 2008
What You See is What You Gut
Have you ever walked into a restaurant and been greeted by lines of aquariums holding every fish species known to mankind? If you’ve never left Canada, of course you haven’t! Here in China, not only can you order fresh seafood, you can also hand-pick which sturgeon you’d like them to fry up for you. If you brought the kids along, they can even pet the fish before it’s gutted and cleaned and served up sechuan-style with a side of chow mein. It’s kind of like going to the touch pools at Marine Land with a cafeteria tray. Anything you think might look appetizing, you just net it, and forget it.
Sometimes, they’ll even bring the live fish up to your table in a bucket, just to make sure everything is satisfactory before they kill it. If you change your mind after the fish has been beheaded, you have to pay for it anyway. But, you get a nice bag of raw fish to take home with you as a reminder never to come to that restaurant again. In Sanya, down in Southern China, we changed our minds about one restaurant, after they led us to our unheated dining hut. It was after sunset, and it got mighty cold inside that windy little hut. I must say, it was definitely well-ventilated. Still, we changed our minds too late, after they had already “prepared” their specialty for us. Needless to say, there was a big argument, and we left with a small plastic bag filled with raw fish.
I know, I know, you can see the lobsters swimming around at restaurants back home, and point at the poor unlucky bastard you want to scarf down with melted butter, but I think my experience is a little different. To start with, it smells pretty darn bad in this “open ocean” restaurant. I’m glad our able was up on the 4th floor, away from all the fishy goodness. Some of the fish were more floating than swimming inside those putrid tanks, and their joyous scent was wafting throughout the main dining room. As a bonus though, you can also order marine fungus, which conveniently grows on the inside of all the aquariums, and probably feeds off the fish. Hell, you might as well eat the fungus, it got to the fish while it was still alive - well before you did!
A lot of these aquatic delicacies are new to me. I’ve never eaten a puffer fish or a skate. We usually just look at them in aquariums while sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s. Now, they’re on the freakin’ menu! I half expected to see a dolphin sitting in one of those little fishbowls. Ahh yes, dolphin meat is very low in fat. He spends all day jumping through flaming hula hoops, so he keeps himself pretty lean. Give it a try! I think their slogan would have to be “this dolphin’s for you!” Has a catchy little ring to it, eh?
So, if you ever walk into a restaurant and see a wall of aquariums holding everything from sea cucumbers to sea horses, please ask to speak to the manager, or Captain as it may be. I’m sure he can recommend the catch of the day, or at least of this month. I question the freshness of seafood when I see it floating in a glass coffin in front of me. Sure, you technically just killed it, but it was barely alive to begin with. I don’t know whether to eat it, or attempt CPR! Poor things have probably never even seen the sea. How then, can they be classified as seafood? Maybe they should just call it “Eating your pets” because I think I taught that trout a trick tonight. That’s right, I taught him to play dead. Wait, I think he already knew that one. Roll over? Roll over and die, maybe. Sit? Sorry, this food doesn’t sit well. You’re outta luck, mister. If you want live animals, try the pet store.
Sometimes, they’ll even bring the live fish up to your table in a bucket, just to make sure everything is satisfactory before they kill it. If you change your mind after the fish has been beheaded, you have to pay for it anyway. But, you get a nice bag of raw fish to take home with you as a reminder never to come to that restaurant again. In Sanya, down in Southern China, we changed our minds about one restaurant, after they led us to our unheated dining hut. It was after sunset, and it got mighty cold inside that windy little hut. I must say, it was definitely well-ventilated. Still, we changed our minds too late, after they had already “prepared” their specialty for us. Needless to say, there was a big argument, and we left with a small plastic bag filled with raw fish.
I know, I know, you can see the lobsters swimming around at restaurants back home, and point at the poor unlucky bastard you want to scarf down with melted butter, but I think my experience is a little different. To start with, it smells pretty darn bad in this “open ocean” restaurant. I’m glad our able was up on the 4th floor, away from all the fishy goodness. Some of the fish were more floating than swimming inside those putrid tanks, and their joyous scent was wafting throughout the main dining room. As a bonus though, you can also order marine fungus, which conveniently grows on the inside of all the aquariums, and probably feeds off the fish. Hell, you might as well eat the fungus, it got to the fish while it was still alive - well before you did!
A lot of these aquatic delicacies are new to me. I’ve never eaten a puffer fish or a skate. We usually just look at them in aquariums while sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s. Now, they’re on the freakin’ menu! I half expected to see a dolphin sitting in one of those little fishbowls. Ahh yes, dolphin meat is very low in fat. He spends all day jumping through flaming hula hoops, so he keeps himself pretty lean. Give it a try! I think their slogan would have to be “this dolphin’s for you!” Has a catchy little ring to it, eh?
So, if you ever walk into a restaurant and see a wall of aquariums holding everything from sea cucumbers to sea horses, please ask to speak to the manager, or Captain as it may be. I’m sure he can recommend the catch of the day, or at least of this month. I question the freshness of seafood when I see it floating in a glass coffin in front of me. Sure, you technically just killed it, but it was barely alive to begin with. I don’t know whether to eat it, or attempt CPR! Poor things have probably never even seen the sea. How then, can they be classified as seafood? Maybe they should just call it “Eating your pets” because I think I taught that trout a trick tonight. That’s right, I taught him to play dead. Wait, I think he already knew that one. Roll over? Roll over and die, maybe. Sit? Sorry, this food doesn’t sit well. You’re outta luck, mister. If you want live animals, try the pet store.
March 6th - DVD = Damaged Video Disk
I told you a while back about our little trip to the shady DVD store. You know, the one with the DVD that got stuck in my wife’s laptop. Well, they have struck again. This time, I settled down to watch “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” – you know, with Brad Pitts and Ben Afflek’s little brother. I heard it was a good movie, so I picked it up for like 80 cents or whatever it cost at said fine retail establishment. In order to avoid getting stuck with a bunch of non-working dvds, we brought the laptop along to the store, and tried each one out before we made our purchases. Obviously we couldn’t sit there and watch the whole movie (although I suggested it, because then we wouldn’t have to buy it…), so we just caught the first scene to make sure the thing plays, video, audio and Su Su Sudio.
When I sat down to watch this movie last night, the first scene went by fine, but as soon as the actors started in on their dialogue, I noticed there were captions at the bottom. No problem, I’ll just go into the audio set up and turn the captions off. I tried this, but no dice. They stayed on, no matter how many times I went back and turned them off. Ok, there was a glitch. Then I looked closely at the captions. The first thing I read was, “Target acquired, should I fire?” okay, this was a Western afterall, and maybe somebody in the background said that and I missed it. I am a little hard of hearing. But then I started to read things like “You don’t step to this. I’m straight thuggin’ boy.” Wow, Brad Pitt is really working some magic with the suggested script! “He ain’t yo baby Daddy!” Woah! This is getting exciting! I didn’t know Jerry Springer existed in the 1800’s.
Just then, the movie switched to black & white, and the captions moved from the bottom of the screen, to the middle, conveniently covering Casey Afflek’s face. Ok. I can live with that. But why black & white? I ejected the disk and looked at it. On the top, everything looked legit, but when I turned it over, there was a strange burn mark on the middle of the disk, near the hole. That can’t be normal. I put it back in, and the captions were still ghetto fabulous. I don’t know which movie they mixed up the captions with, but it’s so ridiculous, that I want to see it now. I kept catching myself reading the captions and getting a good laugh. I was imagining Jesse James’ southern drawl saying “Check yoself fool!”
I finished watching the movie, but I think I’ll need to watch it again. My wife started watching it halfway through with me, and she had a bunch of questions. I tried to explain the story to her, but she kept saying “Who’s Tyrone?” and “I thought this was in Missouri not the Bronx.” Oh well, I kinda got two movies for the price of one. Maybe buying counterfeit dvds isn’t such a bad move. You get all the excitement of gunfights, horseback riding and saloon brawls, but if you get bored during the slow scenes, someone is always getting “capped” in the captions. “Yo Tyrone! Pass me the remote! My sister’s cousin is on Jerry Springer. You know, the one I had a baby with? Yeuh, she fine. Now run to the DVD store and pick me up a copy of The Pianist. I heard the captions is from Super Troopers! Baaaam!”
When I sat down to watch this movie last night, the first scene went by fine, but as soon as the actors started in on their dialogue, I noticed there were captions at the bottom. No problem, I’ll just go into the audio set up and turn the captions off. I tried this, but no dice. They stayed on, no matter how many times I went back and turned them off. Ok, there was a glitch. Then I looked closely at the captions. The first thing I read was, “Target acquired, should I fire?” okay, this was a Western afterall, and maybe somebody in the background said that and I missed it. I am a little hard of hearing. But then I started to read things like “You don’t step to this. I’m straight thuggin’ boy.” Wow, Brad Pitt is really working some magic with the suggested script! “He ain’t yo baby Daddy!” Woah! This is getting exciting! I didn’t know Jerry Springer existed in the 1800’s.
Just then, the movie switched to black & white, and the captions moved from the bottom of the screen, to the middle, conveniently covering Casey Afflek’s face. Ok. I can live with that. But why black & white? I ejected the disk and looked at it. On the top, everything looked legit, but when I turned it over, there was a strange burn mark on the middle of the disk, near the hole. That can’t be normal. I put it back in, and the captions were still ghetto fabulous. I don’t know which movie they mixed up the captions with, but it’s so ridiculous, that I want to see it now. I kept catching myself reading the captions and getting a good laugh. I was imagining Jesse James’ southern drawl saying “Check yoself fool!”
I finished watching the movie, but I think I’ll need to watch it again. My wife started watching it halfway through with me, and she had a bunch of questions. I tried to explain the story to her, but she kept saying “Who’s Tyrone?” and “I thought this was in Missouri not the Bronx.” Oh well, I kinda got two movies for the price of one. Maybe buying counterfeit dvds isn’t such a bad move. You get all the excitement of gunfights, horseback riding and saloon brawls, but if you get bored during the slow scenes, someone is always getting “capped” in the captions. “Yo Tyrone! Pass me the remote! My sister’s cousin is on Jerry Springer. You know, the one I had a baby with? Yeuh, she fine. Now run to the DVD store and pick me up a copy of The Pianist. I heard the captions is from Super Troopers! Baaaam!”
The Recovery Pt 2 / Cabin Feverish
I think my wife is getting over her sickness now. Her temperature is down to a tidy 36 degrees, and she ate some breakfast today. Real breakfast, not judge sludgy rice soup. She was up and walking around earlier, and even decided not to wear her winter coat in the house. She was having hot and cold spells over the last day or so, but I think the worst is behind her now.
I, on the other hand, am starting to lose it. We haven’t left the apartment for 2 full days now, and I’m feeling a bit trapped. Physically, I feel perfectly fine, but I can’t leave. I have everything I need here; food, water, notebooks for complaining about my problems, but I’m kind of on an invisible leash here. I don’t even have a key, or the address, or the phone number, so if I go out there and get lost, they’d have to release the blood hounds to find me. “Will these dogs just FIND Nathan, or will they find and KILL him? What’s that officer? You’re trailing off.”
So, as I gaze out the window at the bustling city below, while my wife has her afternoon nap, I feel a big hankering to go outside and play. I’m like a kid with a new kite during a thunderstorm. And no, not Ben Franklin. If I’m cooped up for much longer, my brain will probably start looking like the fried egg in those late 80’s, DEA funded “This is your brain on drugs” commercials. Actually, some good drugs might hit the spot right about now. No dice. China isn’t as “hip” as Vancouver. You can’t just walk down East Hastings street over here and get offered crack, smack, H, blow, rock, powder, dust, rust, speed, cid, GHB, LSD, PCP, You down wit OPP, Oxycontin, Exstacy or wallpaper glue. Looks like I’m on my own. I’ll just sit back nd get lost in this crazy brain of mine.
“What’s that, talking gumball machine? There’s an armadillo tapping on the window? C’mon in little guy! But don’t make any noise, you’ll wake up the baby escalators.”
So, if you haven’t already guessed it, this is that part in The Shining where Jack loses it. I don’t think I’ll try to chop anybody up with an axe or anything, but I may just have a slight case of cabin fever. Bourbon, please. And leave the bottle, Jeeves.
I, on the other hand, am starting to lose it. We haven’t left the apartment for 2 full days now, and I’m feeling a bit trapped. Physically, I feel perfectly fine, but I can’t leave. I have everything I need here; food, water, notebooks for complaining about my problems, but I’m kind of on an invisible leash here. I don’t even have a key, or the address, or the phone number, so if I go out there and get lost, they’d have to release the blood hounds to find me. “Will these dogs just FIND Nathan, or will they find and KILL him? What’s that officer? You’re trailing off.”
So, as I gaze out the window at the bustling city below, while my wife has her afternoon nap, I feel a big hankering to go outside and play. I’m like a kid with a new kite during a thunderstorm. And no, not Ben Franklin. If I’m cooped up for much longer, my brain will probably start looking like the fried egg in those late 80’s, DEA funded “This is your brain on drugs” commercials. Actually, some good drugs might hit the spot right about now. No dice. China isn’t as “hip” as Vancouver. You can’t just walk down East Hastings street over here and get offered crack, smack, H, blow, rock, powder, dust, rust, speed, cid, GHB, LSD, PCP, You down wit OPP, Oxycontin, Exstacy or wallpaper glue. Looks like I’m on my own. I’ll just sit back nd get lost in this crazy brain of mine.
“What’s that, talking gumball machine? There’s an armadillo tapping on the window? C’mon in little guy! But don’t make any noise, you’ll wake up the baby escalators.”
So, if you haven’t already guessed it, this is that part in The Shining where Jack loses it. I don’t think I’ll try to chop anybody up with an axe or anything, but I may just have a slight case of cabin fever. Bourbon, please. And leave the bottle, Jeeves.
March 5th - The Recovery
As I write this, my wife is burning up, and there’s nothing I can do about it. No Nyquil, no Lemon Tea, not even my precious Buckley’s is available. We are about to venture into the strange realm of Chinese medicine. It turns out that my wife’s Aunt (not sure if they are actually related, or if it’s another “family friend” aunt type thing) is a doctor, and she recommended some medicine that will help bring the fever down. My job is to periodically take her temperature and play Forest Nightingump while trying to nurse her back to health.
I know we’re all in this to help her get better, but I get the slight feeling that Mother-In-Law is treating this like a competition between the two of us. Who loves you more, your husband, or your mother? All I can really do is talk to my wife, run a needs analysis (thank you marketing 101) now and then and offer my love & support. Mother-In-Law has just entered the room with a pharmaceutical cocktail for my wife to swallow down. She took it like a soldier, but a few minutes later, I could hear her puking up the pills, along with anything else that was still inside her. She’s barely eaten anything, so I imagine she’s in pain right now. We all know what a dry-heave fells and sounds like. I imagine the best thing for her right now would be a good night’s sleep. She asked if I could lie down next to her. It would help her sleep. It’s only about 9:00, but I climbed into bed anyway. Maybe an early night would be good for me too. Couldn’t hurt.
I woke up at 6:30 the next morning and felt my wife’s forehead. She wasn’t feeling as hot, but her face looked kinda clammy. She came around, and I asked to take her temperature. We have one of those old school mercury thermometers, the kind you stick under your armpit. I got her a glass of hot water while waited 5 minutes for her armpit to perculate. When I checked the little glass vial, it read 38 degrees Centigrade. A little warm. Mother-In-Law was up now, and entered our room to check on her daughter. The exchanged a few words, and my wife told me she was going to see the doctor today, and I was to stay home. I don’t know if that was her decision or her mother’s, but either way I stayed put.
A couple hours later, they returned. My wife looked worse than before. “The took blood outta me,” she said weakly. I walked her to our room and helped her into bed. She fell asleep almost instantly. A few minutes later, the maid knocked on the door to tell us that lunch was ready. I just noticed I was starving. Amid all the medical melee, breakfast had slipped my mind. I helped my wife out of bed and suggested she eat something. After I give blood, they always give me cookies to help get the juices flowing again and all that. She had a small bowl of congee, a sort of mushy rice soup. She requested some ice cream, but her mother told her to avoid sweets. I fed her some vegetables, which I thought would help restore her iron, but mother gave me a scornful look. Only congee. Ahh well, mother knows best.
After we attempted to eat lunch, I helped my poor wife back to bed and tucked her in. She told me that she’s been sick 3 times so far in this young 2008. What could cause this sudden rash of sickness? She’s usually quite healthy. Guess what he doctor told her. The pollution is making her sick. They took a swab from her throat , which didn’t look good. It’s probably a result of the toxins in the air and water. That explains it. Vancouver is so nice and green, with a few old growth trees still kicking around, and tons of green space right in the city to help cleanse the air we breathe. I guess we’re lucky that the citizens stood up to industry there, and said “Put your mills somewhere else – not in our backyard.” Now that I think about it, my wife and I both got sick when we visited my parents in Saint John, NB too. Here in Harbin, the air quality is pretty bad, and once we get back to Vancouver, her chances for recovery will likely increase.
For now, she's sleeping away, and I’m just trying to give her some space. I’ve vacated the bedroom in favour of the living room, where ironically, I have a perfect view of the smoky skyline. I’ll keep you posted on the recovery efforts, but for now, I’ll thank you not to disturb the patient. Visiting hours are now closed. I’m just gonna sneak in and close the window. I think she’s had enough “air” for one day.
I know we’re all in this to help her get better, but I get the slight feeling that Mother-In-Law is treating this like a competition between the two of us. Who loves you more, your husband, or your mother? All I can really do is talk to my wife, run a needs analysis (thank you marketing 101) now and then and offer my love & support. Mother-In-Law has just entered the room with a pharmaceutical cocktail for my wife to swallow down. She took it like a soldier, but a few minutes later, I could hear her puking up the pills, along with anything else that was still inside her. She’s barely eaten anything, so I imagine she’s in pain right now. We all know what a dry-heave fells and sounds like. I imagine the best thing for her right now would be a good night’s sleep. She asked if I could lie down next to her. It would help her sleep. It’s only about 9:00, but I climbed into bed anyway. Maybe an early night would be good for me too. Couldn’t hurt.
I woke up at 6:30 the next morning and felt my wife’s forehead. She wasn’t feeling as hot, but her face looked kinda clammy. She came around, and I asked to take her temperature. We have one of those old school mercury thermometers, the kind you stick under your armpit. I got her a glass of hot water while waited 5 minutes for her armpit to perculate. When I checked the little glass vial, it read 38 degrees Centigrade. A little warm. Mother-In-Law was up now, and entered our room to check on her daughter. The exchanged a few words, and my wife told me she was going to see the doctor today, and I was to stay home. I don’t know if that was her decision or her mother’s, but either way I stayed put.
A couple hours later, they returned. My wife looked worse than before. “The took blood outta me,” she said weakly. I walked her to our room and helped her into bed. She fell asleep almost instantly. A few minutes later, the maid knocked on the door to tell us that lunch was ready. I just noticed I was starving. Amid all the medical melee, breakfast had slipped my mind. I helped my wife out of bed and suggested she eat something. After I give blood, they always give me cookies to help get the juices flowing again and all that. She had a small bowl of congee, a sort of mushy rice soup. She requested some ice cream, but her mother told her to avoid sweets. I fed her some vegetables, which I thought would help restore her iron, but mother gave me a scornful look. Only congee. Ahh well, mother knows best.
After we attempted to eat lunch, I helped my poor wife back to bed and tucked her in. She told me that she’s been sick 3 times so far in this young 2008. What could cause this sudden rash of sickness? She’s usually quite healthy. Guess what he doctor told her. The pollution is making her sick. They took a swab from her throat , which didn’t look good. It’s probably a result of the toxins in the air and water. That explains it. Vancouver is so nice and green, with a few old growth trees still kicking around, and tons of green space right in the city to help cleanse the air we breathe. I guess we’re lucky that the citizens stood up to industry there, and said “Put your mills somewhere else – not in our backyard.” Now that I think about it, my wife and I both got sick when we visited my parents in Saint John, NB too. Here in Harbin, the air quality is pretty bad, and once we get back to Vancouver, her chances for recovery will likely increase.
For now, she's sleeping away, and I’m just trying to give her some space. I’ve vacated the bedroom in favour of the living room, where ironically, I have a perfect view of the smoky skyline. I’ll keep you posted on the recovery efforts, but for now, I’ll thank you not to disturb the patient. Visiting hours are now closed. I’m just gonna sneak in and close the window. I think she’s had enough “air” for one day.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
The Big 5-0/ I'm feeling a bit restricted.
I just noticed that this blog hit 50 entries as of yesterday. I had originally set out to write 1 entry per day, but I guess I went a bit overboard with it. Once you lose your mind, it's difficult to find it again. I still have some time left before I head back to our Home & Native Land, so I just wanted to thank you Mr & Mrs Reader for coming along on this crazy journey with me.
One other thing I wanted to comment on was, well, comments. I have discovered that over here in China, there is quite a bit of censorship/restrictions when it comes to public internet use. I think this includes reading the blogs of private citizens, just in case they write something deflammatory towards the current government or say something that goes against the grain of Chinese society. That being said, I haven't been able to view my blog or any of the comments that are left. I can't even tell if I have comments (I hope I do) until I get back to Canada.
I heard a little story that, if you type certain words on MSN Messenger over here, they just vanish when you hit "Enter". For example, there was a Chinese politician who was suspected of accepting bribes, and escaped to Canada. Can't remember his name, but you may have heard of him. I haven't signed in to my messenger account once since arriving in China, for fear that somebody out there is monitoring my discussions. I'm even hesitant to use my personal email account. So, if you sent me an email and I haven't gotten back to you, please be patient and I'll contact you as soon as I get back. I don't have access to the internet every day, so I try to use my limited time to update this blog as often as possible. Writing an entry is no problem. I just can't tell if it's been "Edited" or not. Scary, no? Something we don't think of back in the true north strong and FREE.
So, thanks for reading, and maybe I'll go buy my blog a birthday cake or something. I'm gonna have to hold the candles up really close to that little fan in the back of the computer, but hopefully I won't get too much frosting on the flash drive.
One other thing I wanted to comment on was, well, comments. I have discovered that over here in China, there is quite a bit of censorship/restrictions when it comes to public internet use. I think this includes reading the blogs of private citizens, just in case they write something deflammatory towards the current government or say something that goes against the grain of Chinese society. That being said, I haven't been able to view my blog or any of the comments that are left. I can't even tell if I have comments (I hope I do) until I get back to Canada.
I heard a little story that, if you type certain words on MSN Messenger over here, they just vanish when you hit "Enter". For example, there was a Chinese politician who was suspected of accepting bribes, and escaped to Canada. Can't remember his name, but you may have heard of him. I haven't signed in to my messenger account once since arriving in China, for fear that somebody out there is monitoring my discussions. I'm even hesitant to use my personal email account. So, if you sent me an email and I haven't gotten back to you, please be patient and I'll contact you as soon as I get back. I don't have access to the internet every day, so I try to use my limited time to update this blog as often as possible. Writing an entry is no problem. I just can't tell if it's been "Edited" or not. Scary, no? Something we don't think of back in the true north strong and FREE.
So, thanks for reading, and maybe I'll go buy my blog a birthday cake or something. I'm gonna have to hold the candles up really close to that little fan in the back of the computer, but hopefully I won't get too much frosting on the flash drive.
Monday, March 3, 2008
March 2nd - She has the Flu, She has the Flute
I woke up early this morning to do some exercising. I have the benefit of a treadmill right here in our apartment, which has come in handy on this trip, what with all the rich food & booze I've been enjoying. I was careful not to make any noise as I got out of bed. I figured my wife could use a snooze, so I didn't want to wake her.
After my run, I went in to chack on Sleeping Beauty. She didn't look too well. As she sat up, she told me her stomach was bothering her, and she didn't feel like having breakfast. She's usually a good eater, so this worried me a bit. I told her to go back to sleep, and she followed my orders. Her forehead felt a bit hot, too. not a good sign. I wondered out loud if we should cancel our dinner plans for tonight, but she said she could battle through, and of course we had a flute recital she didn't want to miss. So, after her nap, we got ready to walk over to cousin's house where the concert was to be held. At first, I objected to leaving the house. My wife didn't look too well. But, she said she was fine and wanted some fresh air anyway. On the 5-minute walk, I found myself propping her up most of the way, my arms wrapped around her like a seatbelt.
We arrived at Cousin Clotheshorse's place, and Niecy was excited to see us. She looked different today. Something with her hair, I'm not sure. I'm no good at noticing things like that. She could have had a nose job for all I know. She greeted us with a smile, and led us into the living room, where she proudly assembled her long, silver flute. She got right to it & began playing. My god, she was good! She started off with a classical piece that I unfortunately didn't recognize, then a traditional Chinese piece, and finally, she told me that she was going to play the themesong from Titanic, "My Heart Will Go On". Now, I'm not a huge fan of Celyn Dion. Actually I find her chest-pounding and overacting a bit annoying, but through this shiny metal cylinder attached to this girl's lips, it sounded beautiful. I gave her a standing ovation. She looked so happy.
After the concert was over, we were rushed out the door to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Niecy looked a little nervous on the car-ride. She sat next to me in the car, and I noticed that her hand was shaking a little. "I liked your playing," I said. "Oh, thank you," she beemed. There. I think that took the edge off a little. In some ways, she is like a scared little girl trapped inside a young woman's body. She seems so unsure of herself, but she ought not to be.
Now, back to my ill wife. I felt so bad for her. "Maybe we should just go home," i said. "no, it's okay. i want to be here," she groaned. I thought she was just being polite. "Let's go home, honestly," I begged. But she just sat down at the table, not eating anything, all the while looking miserable. I tried to do the husbandly thing, you know offering her my jacket in case she was cold, topping up her water glass and offering to take her home, but she refused.
It turns out there was an alterior motive for this dinner. Mother-In-Law has some friends with a son around the same age as our niece, and she was just dying to play Cupid, and introduce them. i don't know how arranged marriages work, but this seemed very awkward. Bachelor #1 was carted in amid lots of handshakes and how-do-you-do's. The whole time I kept sneaking looks over at Niecy, to guage her reaction. She did not look herself. She was sitting extremely upright, and I think I saw her hands shaking again. Then, all of a sudden she got up and quietly assembled her flute. She was going to perform for us again! She said, in perfect English, "This is called My Heart Will Go On. It's Nathan's favourite." Only my wife and I understood her, so she said it again, in Chinese. She began playing with such gusto; moving gracefully with the sweet melodies. She was owning this performance, and making her uncle proud! We all clapped, and when she returned to her seat, I gave her a high-five.
All throughout dinner, there was a strange feeling in the air. Bachelor #1 barely looked at his "date" during her performance, and the two hadn't exchanged a single word since the how-do-you-do's. I decided to interject, and attempt to break the ice. "Do you speak any English?" I asked him. He told me that his English was very bad, but did manage to tell me his name, age, and where he goes to school. Basically name, rank and serial number. "Great," I said. Then I told him my name, where I'm from and how much I enjoyed this country of his. Then I looked over at niecy, and my wife made a nod from her to Bachelor Boy, a sort of "talk to him" in pantomime. It's obvious that he wasn't going to make a move. She looked around, whetted her lips and started to speak. But it wasn't to her date. She said, "Nathan, I want to know how to spell your name." "Got a pen?" I asked. Never mind, I spelled it out loud for her (N-A-T-H-A-N, in case you were wondering) and she smiled, adding that she liked her tea, and did I like mine. I smiled and nodded. My little scheme had failed.
I'm flattered that this girl wanted to make small talk with me, but now is not the time nor the place! She should be getting to know the fellow to her right. You know, finding out if she'd like to marry him and all that. I don't know how these sort of things work though. Maybe they have to play croquet or sacrifice a pig before they exchange words. The Bachelor's father proposed a toast, and I obliged, downing a small glass of hot Chinese wine. Yikes! Everyone had a good laugh, as it turns out it was a "sipping wine". I was burned in more ways than one.
I noticed to my left, that my wife's condition was getting progressively worse. She was now doubled-over with her head on the dinner table. Ok, this time I'm finished negotiating. "Do you want me to take you home?" I said sternly. This was not a question in the classic sense. "But I ordered you a Bibimbap (Korean rice dish)," she said. Look, I don't care if you ordered me Billy The Kid, we're leaving. I took a couple last bites to show her I was thankful for her ordering it for me, then I thanked everyonefor dinner, got our coats and walked my ailing wife to the elevator. On the way out, I thanked my niece for the performance. "Maybe you will call me?" she asked, making the telephone sign with her long, flautist's fingers. "I don't know how to use a Chinese telephone. It's better that I don't." I thought. "Call her," I said, pointing to my wife. I helped her into the lift and walked her around the corner to her mother's apartment, doing the human seatbelt thing again. Once we got home, I put her into bed, and she used her last ounce of strength to call a doctor, who happens to be a friend of her mother's. The Doc suggested some medicine, which the maid just ran out to get. I'm crossing my fingers for ya, honey. Nobody likes to get sick, especially on their vacation. I've been there, and they don't put hospitals on postcards, that's for sure.
After my run, I went in to chack on Sleeping Beauty. She didn't look too well. As she sat up, she told me her stomach was bothering her, and she didn't feel like having breakfast. She's usually a good eater, so this worried me a bit. I told her to go back to sleep, and she followed my orders. Her forehead felt a bit hot, too. not a good sign. I wondered out loud if we should cancel our dinner plans for tonight, but she said she could battle through, and of course we had a flute recital she didn't want to miss. So, after her nap, we got ready to walk over to cousin's house where the concert was to be held. At first, I objected to leaving the house. My wife didn't look too well. But, she said she was fine and wanted some fresh air anyway. On the 5-minute walk, I found myself propping her up most of the way, my arms wrapped around her like a seatbelt.
We arrived at Cousin Clotheshorse's place, and Niecy was excited to see us. She looked different today. Something with her hair, I'm not sure. I'm no good at noticing things like that. She could have had a nose job for all I know. She greeted us with a smile, and led us into the living room, where she proudly assembled her long, silver flute. She got right to it & began playing. My god, she was good! She started off with a classical piece that I unfortunately didn't recognize, then a traditional Chinese piece, and finally, she told me that she was going to play the themesong from Titanic, "My Heart Will Go On". Now, I'm not a huge fan of Celyn Dion. Actually I find her chest-pounding and overacting a bit annoying, but through this shiny metal cylinder attached to this girl's lips, it sounded beautiful. I gave her a standing ovation. She looked so happy.
After the concert was over, we were rushed out the door to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Niecy looked a little nervous on the car-ride. She sat next to me in the car, and I noticed that her hand was shaking a little. "I liked your playing," I said. "Oh, thank you," she beemed. There. I think that took the edge off a little. In some ways, she is like a scared little girl trapped inside a young woman's body. She seems so unsure of herself, but she ought not to be.
Now, back to my ill wife. I felt so bad for her. "Maybe we should just go home," i said. "no, it's okay. i want to be here," she groaned. I thought she was just being polite. "Let's go home, honestly," I begged. But she just sat down at the table, not eating anything, all the while looking miserable. I tried to do the husbandly thing, you know offering her my jacket in case she was cold, topping up her water glass and offering to take her home, but she refused.
It turns out there was an alterior motive for this dinner. Mother-In-Law has some friends with a son around the same age as our niece, and she was just dying to play Cupid, and introduce them. i don't know how arranged marriages work, but this seemed very awkward. Bachelor #1 was carted in amid lots of handshakes and how-do-you-do's. The whole time I kept sneaking looks over at Niecy, to guage her reaction. She did not look herself. She was sitting extremely upright, and I think I saw her hands shaking again. Then, all of a sudden she got up and quietly assembled her flute. She was going to perform for us again! She said, in perfect English, "This is called My Heart Will Go On. It's Nathan's favourite." Only my wife and I understood her, so she said it again, in Chinese. She began playing with such gusto; moving gracefully with the sweet melodies. She was owning this performance, and making her uncle proud! We all clapped, and when she returned to her seat, I gave her a high-five.
All throughout dinner, there was a strange feeling in the air. Bachelor #1 barely looked at his "date" during her performance, and the two hadn't exchanged a single word since the how-do-you-do's. I decided to interject, and attempt to break the ice. "Do you speak any English?" I asked him. He told me that his English was very bad, but did manage to tell me his name, age, and where he goes to school. Basically name, rank and serial number. "Great," I said. Then I told him my name, where I'm from and how much I enjoyed this country of his. Then I looked over at niecy, and my wife made a nod from her to Bachelor Boy, a sort of "talk to him" in pantomime. It's obvious that he wasn't going to make a move. She looked around, whetted her lips and started to speak. But it wasn't to her date. She said, "Nathan, I want to know how to spell your name." "Got a pen?" I asked. Never mind, I spelled it out loud for her (N-A-T-H-A-N, in case you were wondering) and she smiled, adding that she liked her tea, and did I like mine. I smiled and nodded. My little scheme had failed.
I'm flattered that this girl wanted to make small talk with me, but now is not the time nor the place! She should be getting to know the fellow to her right. You know, finding out if she'd like to marry him and all that. I don't know how these sort of things work though. Maybe they have to play croquet or sacrifice a pig before they exchange words. The Bachelor's father proposed a toast, and I obliged, downing a small glass of hot Chinese wine. Yikes! Everyone had a good laugh, as it turns out it was a "sipping wine". I was burned in more ways than one.
I noticed to my left, that my wife's condition was getting progressively worse. She was now doubled-over with her head on the dinner table. Ok, this time I'm finished negotiating. "Do you want me to take you home?" I said sternly. This was not a question in the classic sense. "But I ordered you a Bibimbap (Korean rice dish)," she said. Look, I don't care if you ordered me Billy The Kid, we're leaving. I took a couple last bites to show her I was thankful for her ordering it for me, then I thanked everyonefor dinner, got our coats and walked my ailing wife to the elevator. On the way out, I thanked my niece for the performance. "Maybe you will call me?" she asked, making the telephone sign with her long, flautist's fingers. "I don't know how to use a Chinese telephone. It's better that I don't." I thought. "Call her," I said, pointing to my wife. I helped her into the lift and walked her around the corner to her mother's apartment, doing the human seatbelt thing again. Once we got home, I put her into bed, and she used her last ounce of strength to call a doctor, who happens to be a friend of her mother's. The Doc suggested some medicine, which the maid just ran out to get. I'm crossing my fingers for ya, honey. Nobody likes to get sick, especially on their vacation. I've been there, and they don't put hospitals on postcards, that's for sure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpeg)
