More Fragments

It's been awhile since I wrote anything, and there's a reason for that: there's not much super exciting action going down. Not to say that I'm having a bad time, but the day to day events are as routine as can be imagined. I wake up at about seven, sometimes a little later, but nobody knows the difference except me, move out into the main hang-out space, and chill around online until everyone gets up (which is often very, very late). James usually keeps me company during these morning hours, he's supposed to be doing schoolwork, but he's about as into it as any self-supervised twelve year old on vacation. Evenings I spend here, or out at this Irish Inn/bar on the other side of Old Town.

James has a lot of unspent energy. He's bored. His parents are divorced, and he doesn't consider Lao Lua a father figure. He's twelve, and English isn't his native, but I can see he's extremely upset that his parents split up. Couple that with the reality that he has no-one his age to hang out with, and spends the first five or six hours of the day doing homework (or, rather, not, and so gets scolded) alone save for myself. Today, though, we went on a hike together and played some pool. Happy doesn't describe his mood.



^^^^^^^ This is James atop the wall surrounding a t.v. tower at the top of the mountain. Getting up it, with my help, and jumping off it (especially the jumping) made his day, I'd bet a hundred dollars it made his summer. I don't think he thought he had it in him, he had about six false starts. At the end of the day, though, he made the jump.

I very much disapprove of the parenting style, not to mention animal-care style here, and in China at large. It's absolutely draconian-- involving much yelling, strict demands, and little reward. I'm not sure anybody here's ever heard of setting an example and, were you here with me, I'd probably be couching that statement in curses.

People here tie their animals up. And when I say that, I don't mean they have them on a leash, I'm talking like a two foot piece of rope. Fairly often I'll see a dog in an honest to goodness cage, with inch-round metal bars, and barely enough room to lie down. Today, during the beginning of our walk, the family threw rocks for La La (yellow lab) until I went and got a stick. Rocks . . . I don't think they even knew what was wrong with it. Yesterday I passed by a cat, crying, stuck on top of some doors that were leaned up against a business. It was stuck because the fuckwits had it tied by a very short string to the top of the doors. I had half a mind to come back, in the night, and cut it away in the event of its continued presence. As it was I settled for withering disgust broadcast, by my face, to the people nearby. Realistically, there's nothing I can to do change this nation, or even this city, or even this neighborhood. It sure is depressing.

On a brighter note, at last I'm beginning to know my way around. The old town is a maze of alleys, but restlessly coursing them over three hours (the ginger excursion) left me with a solid grasp on the layout. To my utmost frustration that day, I knew I was very close to home, but it took me foooreeeeeveeerrrr to find the right turnoff.

A gripping shot of a hot water heater. This sort of device is found on 99.9% of Chinese buildings.



Lijiang from the mountain. The old town where I live and roam is in the lower left portion:



My back is showing slow signs of improvement. I almost fear to dream of the time when it's mended. This condition is such a drain on daily life that I can't begin explaining it. Every moment of the day is impacted. Hopefully things will shape up. I'm missing Juneau terribly this summer, but I think I've got a little more travel in me at least. I may quit China and see the rest of SE Asia for a bit before heading home.

To my family, I hear things are even more difficult than they should be in this terrible time (for you non family, know that my Grandmother very recently, and unexpectedly, passed away). I know, however, that you must all certainly being doing the best possible for one another.

Miscommunication

"I'm going to store to buy some ginger"

"ginger?"

"yeah, for doughnuts"

"I think you should go to the market, it's cheaper"

"is it close?"

"oh very close!"

"I need powdered ginger though, would they have that at the market?"

"of course"

"really? powdered?

"yes, yes . . . I think you should go there, it's cheaper!"

After receiving a map (hand drawn) I set out for the market. The map was totally broken, the market was quite far away, and I got lost on the way back. There wasn't any powdered ginger that I could find. Before returning I dropped by the very, very, nearby store and bought some ginger like I'd wanted.

Upon my return:

"ugh, I got so lost, but I got the ginger anyway"

"oh! powdered ginger?!"

Settling In

I've yet to rest well since arriving in Lijiang. Laughter, light, conversation-- these normally pleasant things are my unwelcome, yet so far unavoidable, roommates come the small hours of night. I can only hope to adapt, or buy some earplugs.

My encounter with Lao Loa (which is a bit odd to say, I suppose, since I see him every day) is driving me to improve my Go game. The existence of superior players has never escaped me, but I hadn't met one in the flesh before. He's instructing me, after a fashion, at odd hours in the day. His style is peculiar. In matters of life and death, sheer reading moves ahead, I'm actually and clearly, the more capable player. However, Lao has such an advanced grasp of exactly which area of the board needs attention that he crushes me routinely.

Life here is indeed relaxed, but I haven't ventured much into the city. Honestly I've been too tired to think of going out. The sleep dilemma had better resolve before long. Getting up early is fine with me, going to bed early is fine with me, but when people talk and laugh not ten feet from my window till one or two in the morning . . . well that's not fine.



I made doughnuts this morning, with no measurements, no cinnamon, and no butter. They were a hit with our Israeli guests, and also with James (son of the owners), I wasn't entirely satisfied. The common sugar here is such a large grain that it wouldn't adhere to the doughnuts. They tasted alright, only a bit plain. I think the solution will be melting sugar on the stove for dipping. Then, if I can get my hands on any, I can sprinkle spice over the top. Chocolate is a possibility too, but might not be economical here.

James is studying English, summer vacation though it is, and I've been helping a bit. The study materials are atrocious though, they've clearly never passed under any native Anglophone eyes. Despite this his speaking ability is rather high, but he can't seem to stop using "true" for every situation that calls for "correct," or "right." Example: James brings me some coffee, "Is it true?"

Kitchen "essentials"

Perhaps it shouldn't surprise me, but Chinese kitchens, well, homes in general, steer well clear of appliances. Washing machines are pretty normal, but as I’ve noted before, dryers are nonexistent. Crispin, a perfectly intelligent fellow, assumed yesterday that the washing machine required manual assistance to fill up, only because even washing machines are still not the norm. Back in Yantai, Andy told me that older generations in China will sometimes wash things by hand, even when they can afford not to, out of mistrust for newfangled contraptions.

Of the homes I’ve visited, none contained an oven or a refrigerator (where fridges are present freezers are often absent), to say nothing of things like mixers and blenders. Neither will one much knife diversity: a giant cleaver slivers and dices the necessary reagents. Task specific dishes, pots, and implements (for example: measuring tools, whisks, any baking related dish) are nowhere to be found. Rice is usually cooked in a separate rice cooker, not in a pot, and one or two pans suffice for the majority of dishes. The efficiency is appealing, but it’s also downright annoying if one’s trying to make western food.

The absence of a refrigerator, in particular, is vexing. I do want to cook here, but without butter, or milk, or cream, many standard western recipes are downright impossible. It is possible to obtain milk and butter, but not very practical when they can’t be kept more than a day. As for cream, I’ve never seen, or heard, of it’s sale. Bread I can still make, although perhaps a limited variety, since I won’t be finding bread flour, or even “normal” flour here. But be it the staff of life, or no, one cannot live on bread alone. Not that I need subsist on my own cooking, but you get the idea.

Butter, butter, butter, most of the “simple” things I’d make hinge on butter. Muffins, cookies, biscuits, pie-crust, donuts . . . anything like these must have butter or fail. And that’s only half the battle, cake pans, pie tins, and muffin tins are not worth purchasing myself, to say nothing of the inability to measure precisely, and the further inability to procure measuring tools!

I suppose this is turning into a rant, but I’m not really grumpy, just bemused. Lao Loa (or something like that, the owner) was saying maybe I could cook something basic for western guests, like a hamburger. Obviously I can cook hamburgers, but one doesn’t cook a hamburger without buns, ketchup, pickles, or cheese! There’s precious little staple-ingredient-overlap between our two cultures, but I suppose we’ll work around it somehow.

Air Quality!

I left Yangshuo on Monday, after a lovely weekend of food poisoning. Back I went to Guilin, where I waited for a few hours before the overnight train to Kunming. This time around I bought a “hard sleeper” ticket, but I didn’t regret it. The only significant difference between hard and soft, apparently, is that in hard there’re six bunks to a compartment, as opposed to four, and there’s no door. This time I remembered to bring some ramen noodles along too.



Once in Kunming it didn’t take long to find a bus bound for Lijiang. I suspect I was gouged on the ticket price, but I decided to pay it anyways since I didn’t know how long it would take me to find the official bus, there didn’t seem to be many English language interfaces around. At any rate, I got on the bus and assumed the catatonic bobble-head position for a few hours, until the driver motioned us to depart and transfer to another vehicle. An enthusiastic man welcomed me to the back middle seat, he was an English professor, and asked me if I’d ever been to Dali before. Oh, I rejoined, is this bus going to Dali? It was, and that’s why I’m in a hotel in Dali right now instead of the Enjoy Inn in Lijiang. I probably could’ve made it to Lijiang today, but my butt hurt and I wanted a shower— I’ll just get a bus in the morning. At least I got a good deal on the hotel, I asked the cabby to take me somewhere I could stay for eighty Kuai. This is where I ended up, and eighty is what I’m paying, but the rates on the wall say a hundred and eighty-eight per night.



I’m loving Yunnan already. It’s the first place I’ve been (in China) with acceptable air quality. The sky is actually blue, and, I don’t know why, but the clouds are amazing. Maybe it’s not like this every day, but they’re just ridiculously tall and billowy. That’s how it is in Dali at least; I hope things are similar in Lijiang.

Thursday—

The boss plays Go, and he’s good! We played two games last night and, while I sure wasn’t in my best form, I can tell he’s severely stronger than I am. Hopefully we can play more in the days to come, provided it’s not too boring for him.



I finally made it to Lijiang yesterday and, as per normal, it was a regular whirlwind. I met the family who owns the place, their dog, their cats (the non skittish one), and went out on a little walk with some guests to explore the area. The little walk was more like a hike, and a thunderstorm caught us near the top of the little mountain we were climbing. But, it was no big deal. To our mutual surprise, the guests and I share a common interest in Anime— even a shared interest in specific series, so we had no shortage of conversation topics (would you believe they also read The Song of Ice and Fire and The Foundation? Nobody reads The Foundation!).



Dear, dear, apparently I don’t feel like writing this morning, but I will soon. I foresee no shortage of morning writing in Lijiang. The family stirs itself around ten, and until then the place is empty save for myself, and the few guests who need the door opened.

Little Update

Egad! This guy should be viewed separately to really get a feel for him



This is the lovely visitor I found on the floor last night. I shooed him out, but he scuttled right back in. The dark door crack appealed to him. Finally, I got him to the hallway, where I found this frog, before meeting the giant moth in the bathroom. The insects of this place are quite exotic to my Alaskan sensibilities.

He's small, but he's there:



This bugger was big:




A miniature horror landed on the pool table the other night— probably seven inches long, including the jaws, about 1.5 inches, which creaked loudly by squeaking its wings (It’s not all horror though, the butterflies are perfectly splendid). Abel took many pictures, perhaps I can send away for one, and maybe I can capture some shots before I leave.

The tickets aren’t purchased, but I plan to leave Yangshuo this weekend. I think I’ve seen pretty much all there is to see, and most of the people I knew (even the some of the students) are gone. My next stop is Lijiang. There I have another volunteer opportunity,— interacting with foreign customers at a small guesthouse. That in itself doesn’t interest me, but the place has a small, unused, café which I can apparently bend to my will, even to point of making money if stuff actually sells. They have an oven too, the first I’ve encountered since landing in China! How I long to bake some bread, the selection in stores here is absolutely unbearable. Even bread from bakeries seems a bit off.

There’s not much of note to mention. I played Go with a Chinese man in the park the other day. He was good, very near my own level, hard to tell if slightly above or below, but he lost in the end. The game was awesome though, I tried and tried to kill his shapes, but never succeeded. Still, I used the threats to dictate the flow of play and squashed his territory, thereby minimizing his points to a fatal degree. Much fun was had, hands were shaken, he complimented me (you play like a Chinese), and we both took us off, late, to our respective dinners.

I probably owe the structure of that last sentence to “The Worm Ouroboros,” an early book of fantasy written in Jacobean prose. I finished it the other day, but the odd turns of phrase have yet to dissipate from my brain. It was an excellent book: curious, in that the names, both of places and people, were bizarrely uncreative (for the places), and weirdly inconsistent (the people), but possessed of an uncommon elegance in illustration. Normally I hardly scan, or abide, lengthy, overwrought, descriptive passages. But the author of this book, though his sentences trailed on for clause after clause, paced things so well, and chose words so carefully, that every spellbinding fragment seemed at once clear, important, and poetic. The villains were villainous; the heroes, heroic. It read like a Greek epic cast in Fairy Land.

As it happens, I just read the Wikipedia entry on the book and found this explanation for the names:

'Many people (including J.R.R. Tolkien) have wondered at and criticized Eddison's curious names for his characters (e.g. La Fireez, Fax Fay Faz), places and nations. According to Thomas, the answer appears to be that these names originated in the mind of a young boy, and Eddison could not, or would not, change them thirty years later when he wrote the stories down.'

End Times

The view from a small hill in the park:



Well, our temporary little Yangshuo crew is dissolving. By now Abel should be in Beijing. Jordan left last week, and Hamza and Veroni are leaving on Monday. I think I'll finish out next week before taking off for Lijiang. Apparently I don't have the energy to write just now, I'll have to come back later.

Group picture at the secret beach:



About to jab Amir with the bamboo (the door locks at 12:30, somebody has to let us in):



More Guangxi landscape: