Wandering in the Spring Festival, China
The morning starts with a bang or one bang after another, a
series, a chorus - the same sound that lulled me to sleep the
night before. Well, I smile to myself, after all it's their
country and they're free to do as they like. How does it matter
that most cities elsewhere have practically banned firecrackers?
I totter out of bed, thinking I'll go for my morning walk, a
habit that's not been practiced for over three weeks, courtesy a
broken rib, couretsy an evening of hard drinking, a huang jiu
(house liquor, yellow in colour at a restaurant), bai jiu, the
fiery white rice wine topped by swigs from a bottle of Chivas
Regal. I was brought home (apartment at the university) drunk
where I promptly crashed into my bed...yes crashed, and was left
with a broken rib. Anyway, that was a few weeks ago...
I sit at my computer, checking my mail - there's hardly any,
other news sites - nothing of earthshaking importance and a
chatsite where I meet new people, flirt and generally make
friends fast and lose them faster with my sacrilegious
pronouncements.
I spend the morning doing this and a little more of the
same....Ahhh wait...CCTV 3, there's a girl in a gypsy dress on
what looks like a circus stage, walking a dog through her very
pretty legs...hey, I think to myself, I too am a Dog (was born
in the Dog Year) so why am I being denied the pleasure of
weaving in and out of those legs. As if in response, she stops!
I sit and spend the morning thus, making friends and losing some
and finally decide lunch can wait no longer. I walk down the
four four flights of the hotel building where I and others of my
ilk are housed. We, the so-called foreign teachers are on the
top-floor, I guess, to ensure we can't make a quick getaway. My
apartment is cold. The airconditioners (with heating) stopped
functioning many weeks ago. I complained to the FAO, they bought
me an electrical heater. I suppose they didn't consider me
worthwhile investing on any more...they have me by the balls of
my contract anyway and the contract says nothing about ensuring
the aircons will work. So, here I am, freezing sometimes. The
weather has been very cold, well below zero most days...
Anyway, I walk out and out the compound that houses the teachers
and oficials' residences, looking for a place to get some chow.
Everything is closed. Everyone is celebrating the Spring
Festival. I walk further down the road and come to a fandian (a
small restaurant) that's still open to custom. I order some
cabbage (not the hot and sour one, I make clear to the waitress,
a young thing with a bigger butt than most but an equally
pleasant smile) and rice. I watch television while I wait for my
meagre lunch to arrive and then eat quickly and leave. Outside,
I walk past the numerous karaoke bars. Looks like everyone's
there, dressed in their best, smiling their prettiest. Young
women in tight jeans through which my eyes can sometimes discern
the indiscernible never fail to escape these lecherous eyes.
Sometimes I wonder if my eyes are the busiest on earth. I wave
at a few nodding acquaintances. Suddenly someone steps into my
path, 'Jack' he says. I smile a smile that's reserved for times
when I know I am known but don't know the knower myself. He
fishes out a red pack of cigarettes...Chungwahs. Very expensive
at about 50 to 80 a pack. He gives me one and I gratefully
accept. It's not polite to refuse offers of cigarettes here in
China. In any case, it would take me very little persuasion to
accept a Chungwah though I often refuse others, and perhaps make
secret enemies. I already have a lit cigarette in my hand and
resist the temptation to stick the new one above my ear as so
many do here and also in India. I don't want a precious Chungwah
to fall unceremoniously onto the spit-and-retch-washed pavement
from where retrieval would be difficult and non-retrieval of a
Chingwah equally painful. Pleasantries over, I make my way
further down....and I see a family get off a bus and a young
woman looking curiously at me and then suddenly calling out,
'Jaaaaaack'. I look more closely. It's a former student, and
she's back in Huainan from Shijiazhuang in Hebei to be with her
family. She runs across the street, arms opened wide, her family
trailing, a curious and confused expression on their faces as
she comes straight into my arms. We hug..it feels warm in this
season of frost, ice and snow. Passersby look even more
curiously. We stand and talk for a while, exchanging telephone
numbers and her father offers me a cigarette...I am about to say
a polite no, when I notice...yes, another Chungwah. My lucky
day, I smile to myself. They continue on their way, as the
father says they must have me over for a meal. I nod
gratefully...it's nice to see a former student.
Further, into the main city square...i see more of what I saw at
the karaoke bars...people...happy, smiling, chattering,
shopping, spending. China is a giant at all times...during
Spring Festival it's like a giant dancing. People from Xinjiang,
the ones with the small muslim white caps line the streets
selling small pieces of meat kababs on sticks, little stands
where kids and adults take aim and shoot at helpless balloons in
an effort to win an apreciative word or look, electrically
operated height-weight measuring machines, stalls selling
preserved and sweetened colourful fruits on long sticks, smellly
suasages also on little sticks. Everything seems to be on
sticks, even girls' legs in tight jeans look like sticks...i
wonder what delicacies come on those!
I notice the heat...it's the warmest day we've had in months and
I'm sweating...i unzip my feather-lined hooded jacket to let in
some fresh air. Others stare at me...they don't like bearded
men, I guess...only the homeless, the beggars, the tramps in
China seem to have anything close to a beard...I carry
on...until I return to my sanctuary, hot and sweating...
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