Fun en Fin

After a long, busy, and terribly stressful week, I was able to have a fun time tonight.  I went shopping for ingredients to make boeuf bourgignon.  It took 200 kuai, and it was devoured by five people.  Can't get it exactly like it was when making it in Americaland, but the "fresh" market here is quite nice.

Wicked Wonder - (Dante's mask)

"Wicked Wonder" -- Prologue

“Just play the fucking video already.”

“We’re gonna take a moment of silence now,” said Pastor Ian Foster into his wireless microphone.  “I got prayer requests this week from… let me see…”  He took an index card from his suit jacket.  “We got requests from Mindy Thomas.  She’s in the hospital again with back trouble.  She’s gonna go into surgery on Tuesday.  Here’s a request for Ryan Wilkes, Mark’s son.  He’s getting ready for his second round of chemo.  Then, we’ve got one for Louise Anderson’s family.  One of her relatives is battling substance addiction.”  He put the card back into his jacket.  “If you would all bow your heads, I’ll lead us in today’s prayer.  Then, we’ll have a few moments of silence so that you can address anything else that might be on your mind.

     “Heavenly Father, we ask that you just touch the lives of Mindy, Ryan, and Louise’s family.  Lord, they’re going through some tough times, and we ask that you just bless them.  Bless them and their families, Lord.  In our dark times, Lord, we turn to you; we know that you’re just there for us, Lord, and we ask that you just touch their lives with a bit of your brilliant radiance so that they can feel reassured.  Now take a moment for silent prayer.”

            “Jesus Christ.  Did you hear how many times he said ‘just’?”

            “Shut your fucking mouth.  Listen.”

“………………”

“I don’t hear a God damned thing, Alan.”

“Fuck, Wilson.  You gotta pay attention.  It’s really quiet.  Let me play it back.  I’ll adjust the audio.”

“Every time you call my name, I heat up like a burnin’ flame.  Burnin’ flame, full of desire; kiss me baby, let the fire get higher.”

“Who gives a shit?  It’s just someone’s mobile going off,” Wilson said.  “It happens at the movies, too.  Inconsiderate fuck-asses just don’t know how to cope with technology.”

“Did you even pay attention to the song?”

“It’s old, Alan.  You can tell it’s old.  I’m sorry, but I’m just not into the music.  Why are you even showing it to me anyway?  Everyone else, myself included, saw this video yesterday.  It’s a fucking tragedy, okay?  Get over it.”

“First off, ‘Abracadabra’ came out in the 80’s.  It was right about the same time you were sliding out of your mother’s trash compactor of a vagina, so be careful what you call old.  And yeah, I know the entire nation saw this yesterday, but did you hear the fucking lyrics?  Christ Wilson, I feel like I’m talking to your brother’s dildo.”

“If that’s an insult directed at my intelligence, I’ll let it slide.  If you’re insulting my little brother’s latent homosexuality, my dark vengeance will know no bounds.  Besides, we were never able to confirm that he had one hidden away.”

“Lyrics, Wilson!  Lyrics!  Burning flame?  Fire getting higher and higher?  Do you not even get that?”

“It’s a funny coincidence.  Some lard-ass golf player stuck in the 80s just happens to forget to silence his phone.  Then bam!  Three minutes later a sea of fire devours all of the Jesus freaks.  Whatever.  It happens.”

“I’m telling you, it fits.  It’s pyrokinesis, and you know very well that only Pastor Ian bought the farm.  This guy is cocky—you know… like a serial killer.  He’s hiding in plain sight, but he’s dropping little hints.  You just have to follow them.”

“Alan, this is just like the time you were convinced that the FBI was owning up to Roswell.  Just because they published proof of a report including someone’s claim, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re fucking blind, man.  Take the fucking red pill for once.  There’s a fire in Philadelphia that levels seven blocks of gangland, a fire in a VIP suite in Las Vegas that takes out a human trafficker-“

“And now a fire cleans out kind yet misguided Bible thumpers?  It doesn’t fit the bill.  The human trafficker and the gangbangers are obviously bad seeds.  How can you complete the connection?  You can’t.  It’s not possible.  Correlation is not causation.  It’s mere coincidence, and it’s certainly not some warlock opening up a can of firaga.  You can go ahead and put that out of your mind right now.”

“I’ll say it again.  All but three people got out without so much as a slight burn, and only one of those three died.  …And I resent your crack about a warlock using firaga.  Only black mages can do that, and it just so happens there’s something else you need to hear,” Alan said.  He forwarded through the footage on his computer.  “This is it.”

“It’s impossible to stay clean in a world that’s nothing but dirt,” a voice said next to the camera.

Alan gloated.  “I think this may help my case.”

“Okay.  I’m not saying that I’m a believer or anything, but this is right before the inferno comes rolling through.  This sounds a lot like a holier-than-thou complex, and that can certainly drive a person to murder.”

“Precisely….  Wilson, I want you to meet who I’m calling ‘Dante’.”

Wilson put his face to his palm.  “You’ve got balls full of nerdliness, my friend.”

“So what do you think?  This is something, right?  I mean… I should take this to someone, yeah?” Alan asked.

“I don’t know, man.  It seems a bit farfetched.  It’s the whole pyrokinesis thing.  I can’t get beyond that.  I think if you provided a plausible theory as to how the fire was started and controlled, then your story would make more sense.  But in the end, it’s still just a story.  You’re manipulating the facts to support your fantasy instead of manipulating the story to suit the facts.  It’s not very scientific of you.”

“I changed my major today.  I’m not doing the biology thing anymore.  I think I’m going to do philosophy instead.”

“That’s your third change, and we’re only sophomores.  Retarded as that may be, it’s neither here nor there.  What you have is conjecture.  If you’re going to take it to anyone, I suggest taking it to some tabloid.  At least then you won’t get laughed away.”

“Fuck you, Wilson.”

“Hmm.  You’re talking about fucking me?  Maybe you’re the latent homosexual.”

“Shove it up your ass.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“Dinner?” Alan asked.

“Nah.  Jessie wanted to meet me after her class.  She and I are going to Rico’s Pizza tonight.  I’d invite you to come with us, but third-wheels aren’t welcome.”

“Jessie’s kind of a bitch to me, anyway.  Maybe I’ll try visiting the paper.  I know one of the journalism students here that has an internship there.”

“Okay.  Good luck with your conspiracies.  I’ll catch you later.  I’m going to go meet Jessie, now.”

“Later.”  

My Bodyguards are Gone

I marvel at coincidence.  Had my brother and I never met, I would never have come to live in China.  Had I not gone to a non-mandatory English-language gathering in the first week of courses, I would never have met Kevin.

Kevin, for me, was the first Chinese friend I made (in China).  He was my language tutor.  He was my culture assistance guide.  He was my go-to guy.  He was my right hand man.  He was my dear friend.  And then he graduated and moved away back to his hometown.  I know, having said goodbye to my Chinese brother while in the States and goodbye to my Chinese roommate while in the States, that such a word and condition never has to be permanent (as now I'm in China).  But you get used to things being a certain way.  I was a little sad when Kevin moved away.

MS Paint FTW

Good night, sweet prince!  Even though you're neither dead, nor very far away...  I need to find a new dinner partner now.

Virtual Tour pt. 1

I feel like sharing some of the more captivating things that I have been lucky enough to snare with my camera.

To the left here, we have a ... er... some kind of enclosed, motorized taxi-trike.  These things are slow usually slow when you add the weight of a foreigner.  Whenever I'm inside one of them, it's a mixture of fun and paranoia--thinking that at any moment the structural integrity could go out the window.  I'm perhaps more than slightly afraid that my soft, white ass is going to become acquainted with pavement.  That being said, prices are negotiable.  When there are no taxis to be found, these little guys can get the job done.

Living in the city, it's quite easy to forget that there exists some natural beauty in China.  Just twenty minutes south of my location on campus, there is a quaint park where people sometimes go for barbecue, fishing, horse riding, and other r&r.

This was my second time to this particular location.  The first time was in September when blistering heat and soggy humidity made the experience slightly less enjoyable.  Being spring, the humidity hasn't yet made me feel as though I could swim in the air.  Barbecue was quite delicious.  Unfortunately, I don't think I have any pictures of the food...

The park is split into specific areas.  One for crawdad fishing, one for proper fishing, one for horse riding, one for barbecue, and you get the point.  Some of the fishing spots looked quite striking, in my own humble opinion.  I could imagine sitting in a place like that, on the left, listening to classic rock and shooting the shit with one of my best mates from morning 'til night.  I can scarcely think of anything more relaxing.  Maybe a foot massage....

We drove to the park and put all of our food and barbecue materials on a table.  Then, we waited for the boss to come so that we could get coals to use.  We set up base here at this place (right), and I spent the afternoon helping to prepare food to be barbecued and eagerly trying to decipher Mandarin.

I was there with a good friend.  I was relaxing and enjoying myself, but I wasn't really actively engaging in conversation.  Everyone was speaking Mandarin.  While I was eagerly listening to the conversation, attempting to decipher what was being said, I was powerless to participate.

While there, I found this lovely bit of Chinglish.  I imagine that the Chinese was simply plugged into an online translator.

"Upper reaches is vast department Er ooze prairie and Mongolia country steppe, in thousands kilometers of without industrial pollution pure green base, pure natural ture qualities, make red plum brand glutinous corn, mouthfeel perfume is pure, sweet glue appropriate, can steam.  Boil.  Burn.  Roast is you assembly relax, with present the best option of relatives and friends."  Couldn't have said it any better myself.

Now that it's spring, I'm noticing that couples are taking to the outside world in droves.  Even bfe park was no exception.  You'll notice that the scenery is quite romantic.  As they get further along the path, they'll be walking side by side along the bank.

This park had several buildings that were "in the old aesthetic"...  Whatever that is supposed to mean.  No, I know what it means.  It means "rustic" and "quaint".  I like to look at em, but there are people there who live in them.  I don't know if I could handle a life like that.  I like my computer and my music too much, perhaps.

I'm on the fourth floor in my apartment.  I have a wonderful view right outside my window of the student tennis court.  Every morning, I can awake to hear the glorious sound of tennis balls being jostled about and about twenty basketballs not much further away.  The above picture is of a PE class.  I have a couple videos of them, but I don't think they're worth posting.  My camera can't zoom for video, so the quality is atrocious.  It is, however, exceedingly hilarious to witness the shit their coach makes them do.

Until just recently, the view of the "nature" outside of my window has been drab and uninteresting.  With the spring, though, comes beautiful color.  The blossoms on these trees are breath-taking.  I sit on my balcony and stare out at the foliage for about an hour each day.

I've even grown accustomed to hearing the tennis, basketball, and passersby.  It almost seems haunting when they're not about.  I picture that some ghastly event has taken place and that the apocalypse is upon me.  And then every morning, unless it's raining, I awaken reassured when I'm surrounded by the glorious music of activity.

Spring brings beauty, but there's two sides to every coin.  My allergies have been playing games with me.  Now that it seems that winter is finally put to bed, maybe that means I won't get tonsillitis for the third time in a few months.  My fingers are crossed.

A Taste of Being Foreign

When in my home country, I always had something of a soft spot for foreigners.  I used French to teach English to an African student during my Freshman year at Uni.  On my second day as a Sophomore (in 2006), I met a Chinese student.

He was having some difficulties getting into his room; his key did not seem to be working.  I approached him.

"Is everything okay?  You need some help?" I asked.

"Hi," he said.  "My door does not open."

I took his key from him and tried the door.  If memory serves, he had been turning the key the wrong direction.  The door to the building and the door to his room required turning the key in opposite directions.  It was understandable that he was confused.  The door opened easily.

"My name is Nathan.  What is your name?" I asked.

"I'm Richard."

Mmmm...  I couldn't call him that.  My father by the same name had recently passed away.  "What is your real name?"

I got his real name and told him that if he needed anything, he could ask me.  I lived just down the hall.  As several days went by, we introduced each other to music and viral videos.

For some reason, I seemed to be the only person capable of understanding completely his spoken English; therefore, I became a bridge for him to interact with the world around him.  I imagine for him it seemed that I was doing him a great service, but for me it was only natural.  It was just how friendship worked for me.

I remember going to places like Best Buy and Walmart with him.  I would translate his English into proper English so that the clerks could understand, and I would translate the clerks' English into English that he could understand.

My Uni implemented a plan that required students to pay a fee if they wished to stay during extended holidays such as Thanksgiving or Christmas.  During the three day Thanksgiving vacation, my friend paid 60 USD to be alone on a fairly empty campus.  So when Christmas came around, I insisted that he join me in the festivities at my home with my family.

During that time, his English grew and grew; I knew it would.  I had done an immersion program for French when I was in High School.  It had done wonders for my French in just two months.  The Christmas vacation was a month's duration.  After that, most of the people that associated with me could understand him much easier.  Still, he felt most comfortable having me do the talking for him.

I had elected to take Mandarin and German the following semester, so he started teaching me smatterings of Chinese during the holiday.  Then, he offered to have me accompany him when he returned to China during the following summer.  Perhaps I was too hasty to say yes.  Maybe that was impolite of me.  Perhaps I should have declined to be polite, but I didn't.  I got the money raised and I visited China.

For a month, he did for me what I had done for him for nearly a year.  Speaking two languages, I wasn't exactly used to being in a situation where I couldn't communicate.  Living in his home in China was something completely different.  I had studied Mandarin for a semester, but I found that most of what I had learned was irrelevant--much to my dismay.

I felt completely reliant on his assistance for every minute detail.  I had been a foreigner before, but life in France really wasn't too different from life in the United States.  China was a horse of a different color.  It was overwhelming, and I was experiencing expat blues like none other.  I was floored at how much of a drain my presence must have been on the family and on my friend.  After all, he couldn't be too far away from me as I was completely dependent on his translations.

I cut my Chinese vacation short by a month to half of the original intended stay.  When I got home, I instantly regretted the decision.  It plagued my thoughts.  "Why, oh why did I cut my stay short?"

China has a magical power like that.  It gets inside you, and then no matter what you do, you can't get it out.  So, I decided that I wanted to come back.  I contacted my friend in the spring of 2010, asking him to help me get a job in the Middle Kingdom.  Then, in the fall, I was on a plane to my new job as an English instructor.

I've spent the major holidays with my "adopted" family, with the person I now consider "brother".  I am living a happy life right now.

It could easily have never been.  If I never came to China in 2007.  If I never invited my friend to live in my home during the Christmas break.  If I had never been such a good friend to him.  If I had never helped him with his key.  If I had never met him.  If he had never taken the test to study abroad.  If he had never elected to study English.  If he had never gone to the university that partnered with mine.  If I had never had a life-altering experience in high school resulting in a last-minute change in which university I chose.  If I had never studied language, giving me the ability to understand my friend's poor English.  There are so many things that if even one of them were tweaked, then I would not have any chance of being in China at this very moment.

I don't know if my words can properly illustrate just how awe-inspiring that is.  I often sit in a daze considering all of the minute coincidences that brought me to this phase of my life.  I marvel at each of the pieces of the puzzle.