Rest For the Weary

Today, I rest. A lot of people are going to Moon Hill, but I won’t be joining them. Bicycles in Yangshuo are too small to ride in comfort, plus it’s not my nature to be so busy day after day, night after night. We all went out Tuesday and I said that would be it for the week, but I got lured out again on Wednesday by my English Corner group. They were all going to a masquerade party a bar, “Mojo.” I had to stay late and talk to Kim, about co-hosting a speech contest the next day (yesterday), so I couldn’t rustle up a mask. Still, I figured it’d be a good time, and I figured right.



As the night wore on a fellow noticed my “dancing” and came up from across the bar with a proposition. About five seconds later we were doing this on the dance floor: Acro-yoga.



I handed my camera to Abel, who took these shots. Sadly the coolest position is missing from the record, but oh well.



Sai, I learned his name afterwards, did most of the work, talking me through what needed doing, and adjusting things with his feet, but it was totally exciting flipping around in the air. It's a very small world. I discovered later that he’d learned Shaolin style at Kunlun (the school I almost attended, where my master used to teach). There’s not a lot else to say about the evening, it was fun, but nothing much to write about. I just felt like sharing the pictures.



So, that was Wednesday. On Thursday I hosted the speech competition with Kim. It was a bit odd, the Chinese a have a different sense of event planning and public speaking. Everything must be planned to minutia, and everything must be applauded. Up till the last second Kim was scrounging around for an intermission performance. He had his heart set on Hamza dancing, but Hamza fled the school rather than accept. It was a necessary measure. Kim actually left in the middle to go look for him. However, the whole thing went off well enough, and I got a Zhuoyue College T-shirt for my trouble, which I may stash away until I hit the sates again (the rigors of Chinese washing are extreme).


For reference, from the left: Hunter (terrible at directions), Jordan, Abel, Hamza, Veroni, Seby (Sea-be)



Nothing, by design, happened today. I watched Iris vs Savior on youtube, ate, slept in, watched Kung Fu Panda, and not much else. Hamza and Veroni are similarly engaged. As for Abel, who knows what he’s doing— probably out with his camera. He’s an Ecology Major with a keen dedication to photography. He borrowed my computer the other day and I got to see some his shots, mostly of butterflies, birds, and snakes, they were spectacular. I half thought about asking for a copy, I may yet.

Jordan, Vitchen, Abel, and Myself

Highlights

Friday began the worst of my Yangshuo days. I’d agreed to go along on a bike expedition to nearby Shinpin. Nearby, though, is a relative term. On bikes the average transit time is two and a half to three hours, but because I had the whole day before me, I wanted some exercise, and because the company seemed promising I brushed the details aside. Our ride over was pleasant enough, but things took a sour turn.

We had no sooner arrived in Shinpin central than a flock of hawkers zeroed in trying to sell us bamboo raft rides. We repelled them earnestly and went on our way. I’m fairly accustomed by now to the pushy insistence of all Chinese vendors, but one woman just wouldn’t quit. She followed us, we on our bikes, she on her electric scooter, around town for over half an hour. When we finally stopped to rest so too did the harpy.



I was closer at this point to robbing the woman and pushing her into the river than patronizing the bamboo-raft economy, but to my dismay she managed to entangle over half the group in negotiations. These went on for an hour and a half. I voiced my opinions as strongly as possible without being a total jerk. They were as follows: we never intended to go on a ride at all, any lower price we achieved would still be much higher than zero, the small sums at hand weren’t even worth the time wasted already, we could expect with certainty that, were we to accept, the boat would deposit us in some tourist-trinket-bazaar belonging to this woman’s family, and that, first and foremost, we should refuse it all on principle rather than reward her appalling behavior. In the morning I’d assumed that with six hours total of biking, and probably two or three in Shinpin, I’d have no issue making it back for Vichen’s party at seven. However, it was already two o’clock. We’d whiled away two hours doing nothing but haggle, still needed lunch, and the boat trip was expected to consume two more hours.
Despite my best efforts we lunched at an establishment belonging to none other than Raft-crone’s sister— the food was abysmal and on this everyone agreed. Then came the raft, the unavoidable swindlers, and finally it was time to leave. Noting the time, and seeking solitude to settle my dark humor, I put on all speed, abandoning the others, as soon as I was sure of the way and arrived back around six.




Friday-six-o’clock-Taylor was hot, tired, grumpy, and didn’t much feel like a party. I knew, though, that the girls would be disappointed if I bailed, and I also knew, in the back of my mind, that I could probably cheer myself up in the right environment. I collected Abel, a newly arrived volunteer from France, met Jordan, hooked up with Vichen and her friend, and off we went together.

The party, when we got there, was far larger than I expected. It was held in a vast courtyard, filled at the time with tables, chairs, and people, with a stage (probably 15x50 feet if I had to guess) opposite the gate. Vichen dragged us whiteys to a forward table, crowded with seven or eight girls already (I don’t know why, but the students at their school, and ours too, are predominately female), and another round of introductions began. Drinks were free, snacks were free, and as usual everyone confused Alaska with Las Vegas. I’m not sure how to account for it, but something like ninety percent of Chinese people confuse the two.

“Where are you from?”
“Alaska, it’s in the United States.”
“Oh! You must really like to do gambling!”

We were all warming up to each other when Vichen asked me something disturbing: “Soooo what have you prepared?” I replied that I hadn’t prepared anything and wasn’t aware of a need. “Nooo,” she mock whined, “you promised to do a song or a dance!” Then I remembered. I had grudgingly agreed that I might dance at the party (but certainly never agreed to sing!) the day before. However! I assumed, as anyone would, that I was agreeing to dancing of a normal sort: that is to say with other people, on a dance floor. All the while, though, students had been coming and going from the stage to deliver their own dance/song routines. In a flash I understood, she wanted me to follow suite.



My refusal was adamant. One cannot, without some serious training, improvise a dance routine, especially to music one had never heard before! Neither can one sing a song (At all! Never mind badly!) if one doesn’t remember the entirety of any lyrics. As the entire table joined in cajoling the situation started to get out of hand. So, in order to pacify them, I assented to join a group performance of something like a Chinese incarnation of the Chicken Dance. I’d be among others, and the whole point of the thing was to be silly, so I felt fine about messing it up. Up I went. Down I came. I considered the situation resolved.

Vichen was not appeased. She still demanded a song. Emboldened by success and a few drinks I set about internal browsing for songs, but I was hard put. I’m not a singer, I don't make it a point to memorize lyrics. I'd be surprised to remember words to anything (besides, possibly, a few Disney tunes). In the midst of this process voices called me back to the moment. There was about to be a Taiji performance. “Go! Go!” I was encouraged. Everybody knew already of my interest in Kung Fu. I resisted, not wanting to make a fool of myself amidst people who actually knew the style. However, I was told that only the master really knew Taiji, and everybody else up there was simply about to try keeping up with him. That, I thought, I could handle. Up I went again.



What followed was a miserable example, on my part, of Taiji, but it was nevertheless a brilliant success. Nobody else could keep up with the master, he performed the form very rapidly to music, and they left the stage to us. Thanks to my flexibility, martial arts exposure, and to the fact that I was deep in “the Zone” I kept up with him nearly perfectly through everything from cloud hands, to spinning crescents, to a tornado kick dropping to a low, low one-foot stance (which I’d never seen before but accomplished anyway, and flowing Taiji aesthetics: feats that garnered cheers, a first among firsts for me. Of course I made mistakes, but I was, for lack of other words, on fire. I glossed over the rough parts with anything I could smoothly match a transition to for a moment, and I don’t think the audience could tell the difference. We closed the form and I left the stage in extreme exhilaration, ascending for the rest of the night to mini-celebrity status— the recipient of many a congratulation, compliment, and request for pictures. I won’t forget that night any time soon, but I have a souvenir just in case: a scroll with “Dragon” on it that the host scrawled and presented to me.

We stayed at the party until it broke up before heading out to eat with the girls, and that’s all I care to write for the moment. It was an awesome time though, truly awesome.



I've also gained the ability to do the "lotus" sitting position without warming up. I'm pretty exciting. It's the ideal seated position, because you have three points of contact with the ground and you can sit perfectly straight with no effort.

Guilin to Yangshuo

There's still a lot of settling down to be done, and I have plenty of stuff backlogged to post, but right now everybody's sleeping and I think I'd best do it later. These are some pics from yesterday though, context will follow shortly.



After setting up camp in Yangshuo I assumed things would settle down, but they continue to move as fast as ever. I’d been walking in Guilin for about thirty seconds before a woman darted out: “Help? Do you need some help?” She was on the clock, and not entirely altruistic, but she spoke English and asked my preference ; bus or boat? Boat seemed the obvious choice and off I went. The trip up the Li river took practically all day, but I had some awesome company, namely a German girl, Katrina, a New Yorker, an expat from Macao, and his girlfriend from Brazil. Thankfully, we all got along. The day was well spent admiring the unique Guangxi scenery.




After landing in town I made my way to Zhouyue English College in time to eat dinner and conduct English Conversation Corner directly afterwards. Conversation corner is blast everyday so far, everyone is curious about Alaska, and especially Kung Fu once they figure out why I’m here. The young people at school have no clue about Kung Fu at all, to them it’s basically magic, and they love to hear about it. But, conversation drifts wherever we want it. On Thursday I talked forever on carpentry tricks of Dad’s and old, European superstitions.



Man, I don’t think I can organize these thoughts into anything coherent. The days, only four of them, have been so packed it feels like a lifetime since I got here. Thursday is a great example of this. I woke up, showered, set out to familiarize myself with the town, and walked for a long time. I knew I was getting myself lost, but I didn’t mind. It’s a small town, and I knew basically the direction I needed to get back. Eventually I’d been going so long I figured I’d better start running, or else miss lunch. So I ran. Somehow I ended up in a park. Chinese attendants accosted me, demanding 50 Yuan for admittance. But, I figured I wasn’t there to enjoy anything, and certainly not on purpose, so I shouldn’t have had to pay. They were impotent young women, so I made an executive decision and ran past laughing like a villain.

I expected to wind up on a certain road; instead I wound up in the forest. Nevertheless I was confident in my course, I must have just misjudged the distance. The hunch proved correct and I emerged in the center of town, totally muddy, scratched, and exhausted in time for lunch. We ate, and I left to wander the town. Before dinner I gave an hour’s speech on western cooking, and then two more hours of conversation afterwards. Then, as I was leaving the school, two Chinese girls ran up to me. They were students from a different English school, visiting for a couple days in Yangshuo, with a homework assignment to speak to foreigners and collect their signatures as proof. Since I live in a hive of foreigners I led them around collecting signatures, before meeting up with Jordan, after which we set out for West Street in search of strangers.



West Street lasted awhile (I’ll need to write a small passage on it one of these days), we collected a lot of signatures, I bought a Go set (the stones are nice, actual stone like my ones at home, but the board is just a cloth), and we ended the night at rooftop bar. The girls pressed us to attend a party the following day, to be thrown by their school upon the conclusion of their Yangshuo visit, and we accepted happily. I got home late and went to sleep immediately.

Qingdao to Guilin

Note to everyone: these next few entries were all jotted down in my notebook while I travelled apart from electricity. None of it has been revised, and hardly any of it is well thought out. What’s more, I’m typing it out as fast as I can without looking at the screen much, so there’ll probably be a few typos. Feel free to skim, or come back to it a few days later by which time I may have come back to elaborate and improve. I may not, though, because there’s just so much. I had nothing else to do on the train but record idle thoughts.

I’ve just arrived in a flurry inside my train, carriage 10, compartment 033, departing from Qingdao. A bemused Chinese man is staring at me while he eats his strawberries; he can hadly be blamed, I’m sure the excitement and relief written all over me must be funny enough. Boarding was a breeze, if a rapid one, thanks to CS member qI lI, but a touch of panic, bled over from a parallel, Qi-less universe has yet to fade.

Before arriving in Qingdao I posted to the resident CS group asking if anyone would be so kind as to help a poor Laowai (foreigner) through the boarding process. Feedback was diverse. More than one informed me that the train was, hostely , not such a big deal,— and that asking for help was completely unnecessary. Thankfully two earth-angels , Karen Qi and Qi Li, messaged back say ing it would be their pleasure to help me out. As it turned out, Karen had an unexpected engagement on Sunday, but she did offer to show me the station on Saturday, and to take me around the city a bit.

When we arrived a the station Karen took me as far as the station door security. To go farther, she asserted, required a ticket and, thus, was as far as she could’ve taken escorted me, even if Sunday was an option. Now, initially I’d planned not to impose on Qi, but hearing this changed my mind and I quickly messaged a request for help the next day. He consented readily and I went about the evening more at ease.

First she walked me around the seaside district. There’s a strong German influence in Qindao with over 100 years of history (eident in the architecture of the older buildings (including the trainst station) and in the native, nation renowned beer). Maybe it was sheer coincidence, but I met three Germans in the city that night.
Next we headed inland to meet a friend for dinner. The friend was late, however, so Karen showed around what I can only describe as a “Chinese Diagon Alley”— a narrow, closed in lane of stone, every foot of which played home to small, ornate restaurant fronts. Most of the stores were equipped to seat no more than 8-12 people, but apparently that’s all they require. Eventually the friend did show up, we ate, and went on to play cards with a few other surfers (including a Seattle-ite).


--------- The Next Day ------------


On Sunday, that’s today, I met Qi, packed by things and left the hotel. At the deks they tried to give me some noise about returning my deposity and charging me for my stay. I wouldn’t have minded, but I never paid any deposit and had already dealt with the rent when I checked in. My guess is the desk women on Thurdsy just let me pay my stay rather than trying to explain the whole deposit thing. The English interface at the hotel was sub-par, althougth I liked everything else about it.

Like his counterparts (from the night prior) Qi was slow to warm up, preoccupied with his low level of English despite years of study, but eventually we began talking fluidly. There were five odd hours to kill before the train arrived. E spent them talking in a McDonalds near the station. He was curious about my impression of China. What were some big differences between his country and my own? I tread carefully when this topic arises. So many of the differences are unflattering, and it’s hard to discuss them without coming off as rude. Once difference I did mention was of gait. Chinese people walk differently than Americans— the differences in motion are subtle, but I’d say the main thing that stands out is a kind of motion barrier at the waist: their upper bodies are like statues as they move about.

At the station, Qi aired a cultural difference I’d glossed over in pursuit of manners. “Chinese people,” he remarked, half in observation, half in explanation or apology, “do like to li— do not like to queue.” And that is the just case. Everywhere one might expect a line is host instead to a stampede. So many people cut, push, and disobey the joint cause of order that it’s completely baffling. Only the night before I’d been googling “lines in China” to assure myself I wasn't suffering some hallucinatory psychosis. I wasn’t: Chinese people, at least good portion of them, have no regard for waiting in line.

“Queue,” though had been the word Qi reached for. His English had tinges of Britain all through it, and his vocabulary was vast, though many of the words had never passed his words before. He confessed to an educational paucity similar to Japan’s,— students drill English hard, but never practice speaking or conversation. The effect was that we sometimes wrote back and forth to clear the confusion, as if one or the other were deaf. Eventually 17::00 rolled around and we walked over to the station where I was immediately gladder than ever to have Qi along.

Security, the first layer at least, did not require tickets. When we got to the second layer it was different, nevertheless Qi begged passed the guards all the way into the train compartment itself. I wouldn’t say more than ten minutes passed between entering the station and settling in my bunk.

I would, without any doubt, have missed the train without his help. The station was a swarm of people with at least 1000 in the waiting room (more like cavern) alone. Furthermore, the signage was 100% Chinese characters. I could’ve muddled through the memory game with time, but not quickly enough to board, that’s for sure.

------------- Later -----------

I’ve woken up now it’s the morning of the 16th. The night went by . . . how should I say . . . both slowly and quickly. I shared the cabin with three snoring Chinese men, and felt as though I slept in a running washing machine. Despise these conditions I slept well, but not without strange dreams. I dreamt I was a skeleton whose job it was to dance in a doorway and rake my hands back and forth, I felt pretty silly about the work, but was informed that to the people outside the door (who must be kept outside at all costs) it was terrifying— so I’d better not stop.

As I was saying, it’s the morning. A new passenger woke me with her banging at the door. There’s a little fold out metal tab to keep it from sliding open, and it was locking her out. So now it’s two old guys, me, and this cute Chinese girl. Thank goodness I bought this rate of passage— I think a seat, or even a hard sleeper faire would’ve been unbearable.

A new challenge is before me: while I was satisfied last night to lay in bed, basking the glory of not missing the train, today I haven’t got anything to eat. At some point I’ll need to venture forth, in search of the dining car, but I have little idea as to where it is. I can hardly get lost on a train, though, so I better just suck it up and go. But, first things first, gonna go brush my teeth.

I found the food. After walking to the end of the train and back, in the wrong direction, I discovered the dining car was only one carriage down on the other side.: there I bought some packages and retreated to my compartment. I had some sort of nutrition drink, a few little sausages, and a large, foil wrapped mystery item in shrink-wrap. I didn't know what lay contained, but I felt it might be worth eating (it was the largest of the things on sale). De-foiling it revealed the entombed the carcass of half a bird. It was very, very messy to eat, but it tasted ok, and I’m not starving anymore.

------ Later ------

The Chinese passengers prepared for the journey more adequately than myself. It would have been smart to lay in provisions in Qindao, Qi even advised of it, but it slipped our minds. Not so the Chinese, some parties of whom carry cases of beer and peanuts to supply their day long card games. Ramen noodles are also in abundance, joining the ranks of a vast host of foreign junk foods.

The girl is joined by a friend. They’re both sitting across the way, facing me, silent as stones. I’d rather they didn’t, but there isn’t anything to be done. If only they’d talk.

Well, that was intense! Suddenly the people in my carriage all decided it would be a good time to get to know me. I’ve received several phone numbers and an invitation to Li Bao Wei’s home in “An-yan.” I don’t expect I’ll ever take it up, but it was a nice gesture. He was one of my chief conversation partners (along with his friend and a woman, Huang Jiang, who is also going to Guilin— something I’m glad of, for now I’ll be less nervous about missing my stop tomorrow.)

My Mom’s Mandarin phrasebook came in extremely handy this afternoon. Without it I’d have been a good deal more lost (though hardly possible). We talked of Alaska, greater geography, Chinese language, and, to some extent, interests and hobbies. It took a long time to get anything across at all, still they were favorably impressed with my meager Chinese. I managed to get a few jokes off, and my desire for train travel has been justified.

A Change of Scene

On my last night in Yantai Master Zheng took me out for dinner. We were pleasantly joined by a fellow named Tom (Tom Hanks is his favorite actor), a soon-to-be student in America, and some relation of Master Zheng’s, who spoke English quite well enough to translate— though for some time following our arrival there was less conversation and more eating. The occasion cheered me up heartily, as I’d been largely cooped up, alone but for the guard, in the camp nursing diverse anxieties.

I’d not eaten a meal like it before: we shared a yin-yang basin of boiling broth with different spices on either side and heated underneath with propane, into which we added thin-sliced meats, vegetables, and fungus which, when suitably boiled, we strained out and dipped in sauce and condiments. I was saying, as I have in many establishments I’ve visited in China, that were the place located in Juneau they’d enjoy complete financial security.

As we talked I had only to mention that, although I knew the Qingdao bus could be caught every half hour, I had no clue how to find the thing, and would appreciate any directions, before the Master volunteered to escort me hence— an indispensible help as it proved. We talked of other things too, but I’ve already managed to type and delete several paragraphs on the topic, all the while failing to render it interesting, so I’ll just say nothing, leave the entry here, and write on the beginning of my trip tomorrow.

--------- The Next Day ---------

I woke and set about packing, though I note currently it was an odd sort of packing, for the clean things are at the bottom and the dirty ones at the top, before having some breakfast and reading. I had no shortage of food at breakfast, indeed probably a surplus, since the guard takes it upon himself to make everybody eat more than they had first intended. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but this is one of the distinctive differences between China and home: they push food, no matter any protest. It’s considered polite.

I caught a taxi to Master Zheng’s part of town where I met him, along with another heavy set Chinese man whose use on the occasion I still don’t understand. There I deposited my Nat. Geo suitcase, with my winter things inside, and continued on to the bus station, where I quickly began to appreciate the Master’s help. The place was crowded and the lines chaotic to the point of older Chinese people shoving their way backwards, up stream, rather than exit by the indicated path. But, with guidance a ticket was purchase and myself hurried onto a double-decker bus. We departed not more than a minute after boarding, and off I went to Qingdao.



Sadly, it was not a comfortable ride. Like it’s foreign relatives, Chinese mass transport allows little room for comfort. I was considerably larger than the intended passenger. It was only three hours though, and they passed as quickly as could be expected.

As we drove through Qingdao I recalled that I didn’t have the address of the hotel written down, at least not in Chinese, anywhere. But it was No. 1 Wengzhou Road, that I was sure of, and I hoped it would be enough. Immediately after exiting the station map-hawkers set upon me, but I was actually glad of it since I had real need of a map. There was a taxi man also. I spoke Chinese to him, endeavoring to explain my destination, but it was useless. I forgot that in Chinese “zh” is sometimes pronounced as “j,” and was pronouncing the name of the place completely wrong. However, the map came in handy at this point and I asked to be taken to Wengzhou, indicated by pointing, from where I didn’t think I could fail at finding the hotel. Things went just so and I checked in without issue (finding with relief that my train ticket preceded me).

And that brings us almost to the present. My room in Qingdao, though small, makes me feel a king after the accommodation in the camp. I confess I’ve spent the day lounging (indulging myself as only junk food, artificial darkness, and electronics can enable), writing, and reading with hardly any excursion out of doors. I’m sure it pains my mother to hear as much, but I still have tomorrow, and the next day besides, to explore the city as I will. Honestly I’m bound to at least to take a walk before dinner.

A deceptively packaged snack: from the outside it looks like any normal cracker . . . but no.



In anticipation of a lengthy train ride, during which I expect no conversation, nor Internet, I’ve downloaded several books. So far I have Sense and Sensibility, A Room With a View, One of Ours, and Sons and Lovers. These books are so old that their distribution limitations are all expired. They call all be obtained, along with many others, online, for free, in seconds. Sense and Sensibility is first on my list, and I have to say it’s quite good. Austen must be an excellent author, because otherwise there’s no way I’d get caught up in the marital woes of historical English women. I’d better note, though, that the most interesting aspect of the work is social documentary.

A Rocky End

I am properly annoyed, again. Yantai chose this past week to rain every single day (after three months with only two sprinkles). I bet it rocks for the farmers, but if you’re trying to dry out wet clothes so you can pack them . . . it doesn't rock quite so much. However, the rain is only the smallest part of my aggravation.

I managed to get my tickets and bookings all sorted on Sunday, and a good thing too, since Monday morning the Internet was disconnected without warning. I was about to call Dad back on Skype when the power went out. I opened my door and, to my dismay, it’d been flipped off to remove the modems and pertinent wires. I received no warning of this, thus it put me an uncommonly bad mood, since I still very much wanted to check my email and keep up to date with various arrangements (not to mention entertain myself for the remaining three days of my stay). Mostly though I felt slighted, as the only person the decision actually affected, to be cut out of the picture.

I called Daniel and, peculiarly enough, he was not aware of the situation, apparently he didn’t request it to be done. He said he’d drop by the next day (today) to chat, return my passport, and probably go out for coffee or something so I could check my emails (there are many Internet cafés here). That was to be about twelve.

Yet, I returned from the shower this morning and found the electrician awaiting me in my room. I didn’t have a clue what he was saying, except that it concerned my computer, so I went over, checked it, and beheld a wireless signal! I thanked him so he’d leave and set about getting dressed. Unfortunately, however, whatever the electrician did had no effect on the connectivity. I’m detecting and joining a network . . . but none of my applications are able to connect. I hadn’t a clue what was wrong, but figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, I’d simply talk to Daniel when he came at lunch.

But lunchtime came and went with no sign of Daniel. I felt a sneaking suspicion that he’d taken the electrician’s visit as absolving him of our previous conversation. So I sent a message informing him that it still wasn’t fixed. I don’t like being insistent, but this is a pressing issue for me so I also called once (two hours later) and again before contacting him and inquiring as to whether he was still coming or not. Apparently he hadn’t planned to. Somehow it didn’t occur to him he should let me know. I was pretty riled up at this point (he also said he would stop by on Friday, Sunday, or Monday, but never did), but he says he’s coming round this afternoon. Although, he said that at three, and it’s five now. If he fails to show up again I may well post this online, despite the unflattering content. If you say you’re going to do something . . . do it! And, if you’re not going to, have the decency to warn people! It’s not rocket science. This on top of changing the move-out-by-date from the thirty-first to the twelfth . . . on the first.

On a positive note, I found a home for the cat with Daniels mother in law. It was rather weird. She came by the camp yesterday and I, thinking she would be the perfect person to ask about cat homes (as an older woman with countless acquaintances in the city), called Jimmy to have him ask her. What followed could be a small scene in a comedy. DMIL didn’t want to use the phone, because it hurts her ears apparently, so I told Jimmy what I wanted to ask, DMIL gave the phone to the guard (whose Chinese is unintelligible even to most other Chinese, he’s nice man but a chronic mumbler).

Shortly the phone returned to me, and I was informed she had no ideas at all for the cat: that it was completely hopeless. I raged, in the safety of a non-mutual language, to Jimmy about how ridiculous that was, since I was standing there the whole time and DMIL obviously made no attempt whatsoever to ask around (a quality shared by every single person I’ve approached on the subject, except James the chemistry major). Jimmy started to explain to me, “hey, I mean this is China” (which means you don’t value cats?), but DMIL, probably in response to my unconcealed frustration/disgust motioned for the phone back. They spoke for about ten seconds, and all of a sudden she was happy to take the kitten.

This was such an about face, I have no idea what happened. My guess is there was something wrong with the Me-Jimmy-Guard-DMIL telephone-game (probably the guard). Either that or she wanted me happy badly enough to pick up a cat. Frankly I don’t care, at least she has a place to live.



Continued on Wednesday:

Not only did Daniel fail to show up yesterday, again, but he also failed to call me about it, again, and this morning he sent the electrician, again, without calling. So, I leave tomorrow, but haven’t been able to check my arrangements in two and a half days, and I still don’t have my passport in hand. Lets put it this way: my good will is spent.

Throwing politeness to the wind, I peppered Daniel with calls in the afternoon, sending along a stern text for good measure. About forty minutes after the text Daniel’s mother in law showed up again and assured me she would go get it poste-haste. While I’m well pleased with this, it also means that Daniel has been choosing to ignore all my calls, either that or DMIL bloomed into a telepath during the lunch hour.

Intertwined with all this has been Master Zheng inviting me to come practice at his school (I gather there’s another master visiting, whom he regards as worth something), but I can’t very well accept; the passport takes priority. The master thinks I should come practice, and then stop by Ali-Baba’s later to get my passport, but that’s ill-conceived. Given the number of missed agreements I have no wish to complicate things further. I’ve said I’ll call back once I have it in hand, and perhaps there will still be time. There’s really no excuse for all this, it’s not as if Daniel’s been prizing my passport away from the officials to get it back to me, he’s had the thing for weeks now. I know he must have a lot going on what with the school closing and his return from Sweden (he was there recently on business), but I presume he’s found the time to eat meals, in which case he should also have been able to find the time to come to the camp, eat here, or not all for that matter, and fulfill his obligations.

In the end the electrician came by with my passport, but I still received no contact from Daniel whatsoever that day, night, or the following morning. This behavior has been far removed from the amiable character I presumed him to possess . . . but it has been persistent, and I will not forget.

It's poor quality, but I took a short cat video before she left, goodness knows there're are already enough cat videos online, but oh well.

Irritation

Today has been annoying. Little things are adding up. Tom left this morning, I'm the last one left at the camp, it's been raining all day, I forgot to bring in my clean socks so now I don't have any, I woke up at five for the third day in a row, and I had a hassle contacting my hotel (Five different numbers were listed online, all on different sites, none of which worked. Well, one worked, but they hung up on me, twice, as soon as I started talking. I called the booking service and the hangups were the hotel. They sorted it all out, at least they said they did). I'm sticking with it though, because the place has many positive reviews, and it's right next to the Qingdao train and bus stations.

Additionally, I've had to fight with my train booking service. Initially I chose them because they allow payment through paypal, but turns out they only do so if you print off, sign, and fax/scan an "I will pay what I said I'd pay" agreement. Which I wouldn't care about if I had a printer, fax machine, or scanner, but I don't. I assumed this would be no trouble and went to get a Western-union account. But after struggling with their site for way too long (I've never been to a more sluggish, bloated, horrible portal), I was informed, without explanation, that an online transfer could not be completed, but that if I would kindly deposit cash at one of their physical locations that would be alright. However, that will not be all right at all, since the ticket service requires online payment. I'm sure it will all work out, but I am not happy.

The cat at least is doing great. She's gotten over hating me and never wants to stop playing. Last night I figured I'd let her sleep with me, but she was more interested in chewing ears and swatting my nose than actual sleep, so I had to confine her again. Still haven't settled her fate, which is making me apprehensive.

On the up side I do have a reservation at the hotel, and I do have a reservation for the train (although that won't come to anything if I don't send them some money quickly). Worst case scenario I end up in Qingdao without a train ticket and have to wait a few days, which would totally suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world.

Edit: Western-union is the pits, never use their services.

The ticket service people are responsive and helpful, so it seems paypal will be fine even without the special form, since I am both the payer and the traveler, and because my paypal account is verified.

Preparing to Leave

I was looking out my door yesterday and saw a small animal, it could only have been a cat, tottering along the far edge of the camp grounds. I jogged over and, indeed, it was a kitten. It made to flee when I approached, but it was in sad, sad shape, and couldn't outrun me.



I've set up an inclosure of floor mats in my room with all the normal kitten accessories, that is to say blankets and water. For food I'm taking chicken (cooked, don't worry) and parsing it up small, but I'm only feeding it it my lap. The thing is obviously traumatized and greets every encounter with a hissing (no teeth or claws). Encouragingly, the hisses are increasingly vehement as it recovers strength. I don't know how long it was out in the world alone, but it's very, very dirty, and certainly hasn't eaten since being separated from it's mother.

This is a lucky cat. Last night was a windstorm strong enough to toss around our garbage cans, and this morning we had a torrential thunderstorm. Aside from the weather, the camp dogs would certainly have bitten it to death if they'd been off their chains. He found someone just in time.



Sadly for the cat I leave Yantai next week due to some recent developments. Thankfully though, it looks like Tom might be up to having it at his new place.

Events have been moving quickly in the camp. We were about half way through morning training on Thursday, when DMIL arrived, preceded slightly by Jimmy, and delivered some abrupt news. The premises must be vacated by the end of next week, not by the thirty-first, and the masters were leaving that very afternoon. This was a bit of a shocker for everyone, but especially for Tom who, not expecting to leave until the end of the month, hasn't secured a flat yet. For the all the shock value, though, things will be just fine. Daniel is extending plenty of support to ensure nobody's left hanging in a foreign country. As for myself, I'd settled my plans in a whirlwind of browsing only the day before.

Blow by blow link surfing accounts are hardly riveting, so I'll just cut straight to the results: I'm taking a train down to Yangshuo, Guangxi Province, in the sub-tropical portion of China. There I will conduct an "English Converstation Corner" two hours a night, Monday through Thursday, in exchange for room and board. How ridiculous is the Internet? Wednesday morning I didn't know Guangxi existed, and by the evening I already had connections! Check out http://www.couchsurfing.org/ and https://www.helpx.net/index.asp to see how it was arranged. I'll write on "why Yangshuo?" another time. At the moment I can't be bothered.



My first step in this journey is getting to either Jinan, the provincial capital of Shandong, or Qingdao. From there a train can take me all the way to Guilin (70km from Yangshuo), 2487 km from Yantai, for a grand sum of 117 dollars. I had no idea travel was so cheap here, and that's the price for a soft sleeper cabin (the only kind of cabin I'll consider for a journey this length, especially at such a reasonable price). There's only one reason I haven't bought a ticket yet: although they're purchasable online, one needs a a delivery address in the city of departure.

In light of this I'm planning to spend a night or two somewhere in Qingdao. Charlie tells me Jinan is incredibly polluted and, seeing as how either city will suffice, I'd rather avoid it. I could stay in a hotel, or I could break some ground in couch-surfing. Currently I have four couch requests out, but in the event that I can't arrange anything I'll just get a hotel. I'd rather couch-surf, meet new people, see the city, and have someone to help me onto the correct train, but we will see. Actually, it occurs to me that I could probably ask Jimmy if he fancies a short trip to Qingdao. We're pretty good friends by now, and he has nothing to (obviously, since he just lost his job), so I imagine he could be persuaded to accompany me. It'd be no problem paying for him as well, since hotels near the train station average around twenty bucks a night. I think I'll bring it up with him. Stellar idea!

Another School

On Monday I received a text, "13:30 Jusco bus station?" The master had invited Jimmy and I out for a meal. The two of us agreed that 2:30 (1:30 was just when Jimmy and I rendezvoused) was an odd time to eat. A bit late for lunch, but far too early for dinner. Eating, we discovered, was only a small part of the master's plan.

We caught the 33 bus from Jusco (as usual I attracted plenty wandering eyes) and rode to a stop near the mountain we hiked the other week. There the master joined us and led the way into a quieter, neighborhood zone. I thought that maybe I'd misunderstood, and perhaps the master was taking us to his home. Apartments were all around, nothing else. But after a while we turned off the street and into some sort of department store. It didn't appear to be in business. The lights were off and no customers were about, but still we kept on through to some stairs at the back, dark and steep, which led (among other mysterious destinations) to a smallish hall: complete with smallish punching bags and stretch-bars that might as well have been guardrails.

It was a school, he must run it on the weekends (he spends all week at the camp, or has recently). Despite it being the holidays there were a number of children, ranging from about four to seven, walking on their hands and chasing one another around the room. Finally I understand how the master retains his impish qualities, he teaches kindergarten-ers.

We were shown a wall of pictures, of master's former students (and of the master himself) as well as a significant array of medals and trophies. The the training began, and I was invited to join in. My height was drawing a lot of, "ooooohohoho"'s (how am I supposed to punctuate that?) from the kids, and they seemed curious to see what I would do. I don't know if the master had warned them of my coming, but they seemed mildly impressed when I followed along with the drills. I was not, however, laboring under any illusions of equality.

Understand that these kids are mad flexible. They fall into the splits without noticing, and a few of the more accomplished boys can stand on one foot while holding the other to their heads. Curiously enough, backbends are actually fairly difficult for them (most of them). They're all flexibility and no strength. I guess that's what comes of a child's physique.

Somewhere in there the master asked if I'd like to play Go (Weiqi is the name here in China). One of his students also takes lessons in it, and upon my acceptance two of the kids were dispatched into the neighborhood. They returned a short time later with a board and some stones.

The kid was good. He had clearly received instruction, and his grasp of overall board-perception in the opening (Fuseki, if you want a more detailed description) was clearly better than mine. But, he was not as devious as me, and could not read as many moves ahead. We traded losses, and while I'm sure I was the better player, he was pretty skilled. I don't know how hard he studies, but he might be able to stomp me in another month. I had loads of fun hanging out with the kids, several of whom crouched around to observe our games. One can say a lot in with Weiqi, nevermind words.

I was in an excellent mood after playing on a real board for a change. Afterwards we played something like duck-duck-goose (although it was more like a version of tag where we all had to stand in a circle initially), and then it was finally time to leave.

We emerged from the depths into a pleasant evening, the day itself had been sticky. Now, I assumed, we would go to eat, but I was only half right. The master had "something" to attend to. He ushered Jimmy and I into some kind of establishment, told us it was all taken care of, and vanished.

I learned from Jimmy that we were in a Bathhouse, but by no means was it solely for bathing. Honestly, I don't think we have an equivalent business in America. There are baths, showers, and lockers, but that's only the beginning. After entrusting one's shoes to an attendant, and one's clothes to a locker, one must don a weird sort of tunic and a pair of short matching shorts. Everyone in the bathhouse wears identical psyche-ward-esque get ups.

Once past the showers, which Jimmy and I chose to bypass, since we were not particularly dirty and only wished to eat, we gained entry to a different floor of the building which reminded me of nothing more than the interior of a very large boat. There were no windows to speak of and a low humming noise, as though we were aboard the starship Voyager, surrounded us. The floors were all soft carpet and large rooms off the hallways were outfitted to admit multitudes of guests: there was a a dinning room with a buffet and stage, a pool room (for shooting pool, not swimming), a tea room, and a large, dim space filled with recliner chairs: each one outfitted with an adjustable t.v. monitor. This was all on just one floor, of which there were several, but we didn't venture any further.

The place was quiet, the sound leeched away by ubiquitous shag. Chinese people ranging from greying, overweight women to younger men who could've been gang members padded around in the same light yellow monkey suits. It was downright weird, though I can understand how one might get used to such a place. We ate, reclaimed our belongings, and left.

Holidays

Yantai is muggy these days, not necessarily too hot, yet, but the air is thick. The leaves are finally out, and some manner of white fluff is wafting around reminding me of home.

It appears the school might only change hands. Daniel is trying to pass it off to one of his extended marital-relatives, but the deal isn't for sure. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are Chinese holidays next week, and he says we should know after that. Either way, the impact will be significant. Charlie and Bernard have already signed leases in Yantai. They'll be moving out, and so will Tom (I believe, although I could be remembering wrong).

I would then be the sole student, until more arrive, which is hardly appealing. But, the deal may not come through, and I may go with the older plan. Besides, I wouldn't stay at the camp without my master, and there's nothing saying he wouldn't leave with a change in management. I've decided not to think about things until Thursday.

We had some really productive training this week with some big gains in flexibility. I am so close to the splits. I can't quite manage them, but maybe in a week or two, or after the holidays. Bernard says if I'd warm-up properly they'd be no issue at all, but the warm-up kicks have been collecting dust as I try to fix my back (which is coming along slowly, if at all, most days it's hard to tell). I'm pretty pleased all around though, because I know that, even in the event I take a long time off, I can regain this level of flexibility without too much trouble. If I'd known these methods before, I would've been able to do this for years.

We finally got back to some two man drills and training is exciting again after a couple weeks of straight forms (Tai Chi is now in the mornings before breakfast). We're also working on our push-hands (an exercise for unlearning the tendency to meet force with force) daily. I have a long way to go with push-hands, I may be flexible, but keeping my whole body coordinated, and loose, is a work in progress. Thanks to all the sticky-hands practice I got back in Walla Walla I can "score," by shoving the opponent in the shoulder, without much effort, but diffusing incoming force is more difficult, at least for me.

Well, it's been a scattered entry, but I think addition would only scatter it further.