there had been weeks of build-up to Christmas. bizarre mixes of both sacred and secular Christmas music have been on the office’s playlist. I also cameoed as a santa claus with gender issues (no mrs. claus suit). I feel this warrants slightly more than an aside. during the first Christmas party, for our really really young students, we had only planned for 1 santa. when that santa was bombarded by kids asking for gifts, it necessitated an impromptu, emergency santa. that’s where I came in. so I had these big red pants, sans drawstring, with a gaping hole in the crotch. tucked into my cowboy boots. yee haw! I think I looked pretty silly and conspicuous. the second party was the not-as-young kids’ party. I was scheduled to be a santa. I worked my way up the ranks. there was a drawstring. there wasn’t a crotch hole (heh heh). but I still had the cowboy boots, dark hair and less-than-subtle earrings. so all the kids who I actually teach kept yelling at me. it was just funny because in America it’s a big deal when kids finally realize santa claus is fake, but here they made no effort to hide the fact that it was just a foreign teacher (and a chick, at that) in a costume, who really made very little effort to conceal her identity. and holy shit, can Chinese kids eat. I’ve never seen kids eat that much food.
so yes, Christmas came, saw and conquered. probably the most fun I’ve had abroad for a holiday. and it definitely beat last year’s shenanigans (feel free to reference my Christmas blog of 2008. a skinned dog, the set of hero and southeast asian midget kickboxers).
Christmas eve began with the most boring vip student in the world. again, I was reminded why I hate doing vips. particularly with soulless teenagers. after the vip, quickly changed into my retardedly cheap mrs. claus outfit (a mere 10 rmb) and headed to tepanyaki, where I was met by other like-dressed merry goers. so we ate tepanyaki. I seem to recall eating copious amounts of salmon sashimi. always a good base for a heavy night of drinking. I tried not to do sake, but it’s sort of inevitable in an all you can drink/eat “forum.” at one point there was an actual pitcher of sake. the steam coming off the top of the plastic pitcher only added to the magic of the night.
after the ‘yaki, headed to my favorite bar, maya, where we were met by several more santas from other schools. the ringleader of that group was george. george has been dubbed “him with voice of angel and mustache of pedophile.” so now seems like as good a time as any to rekindle my love affair with the term “molestache.” george also tells great jokes. just worth a mention. anyhoo, george had song sheets of Christmas carols for everyone. he stood on a chair and directed us as best he could. ‘twas magical, indeed. after that we headed to a few more bars in the general vicinity. I was remarkably sober and bored at about 3 am. I’m not sure if I find that fact depressing or pathetic, but I have the sinking feeling that it’s a combination of the two. why bother to stay up that late if you have no hangover to show for it the next day? is this the wrong attitude? Maybe it just reflects a certain lack of resolve on my part. I’ll try harder next time. that day/binge will come soon, I’m sure.
Christmas day was met by the promise of a buffet at the Shangri-la hotel. courtesy of the school’s investor. so that was nice. I believe I ate 3 plates of just turkey. with gravy. I believe my last plate of turkey also included gummy worms. it was a whole brown/earth tone motif I was going for. I also don’t recall seeing ANY chicken feet on the premises. that’s how you know it’s a fancy deal. there was a whole cheese section. Camembert, edam, some other expensive-looking (and extremely white) cheese. holy crap. with some fancy bread—not crackers purchased from the convenient mart—and olives. it was inspiring. free-flowing wine, champagne and beer topped it all off. if there’s ever a time to indulge in some excessive comforts, Christmas is the time. that’s what jesus was all about, yo.
as a few of us were finishing off the bottles of champagne, we came up with the genius idea to go bowling. but shitballs, how does one get a taxi in the early afternoon on Christmas day? maybe the country doesn’t celebrate, but there’s some innate calibration in every Chinese person’s head that they should all be looking for taxis at precisely this time. so that’s the pickle we were met with upon leaving the Shangri-la utopia. would we be able to actualize our bowling dreams? would any of us have the opportunity to pursue the elusive turkey (not the bird, the 3 strikes in a row…). so we went to try to hail a cab. a whole gaggle of drunk peeps who weren’t really to committed to movement so much as being outside, armed with the idea of trying to hail a cab. we stood there for a while, then serina had the bright idea to head back up to the hotel to just have them call us a taxi. so she literally stopped traffic by putting up her hand and standing in the middle of the street. the two lead cars coming from either direction were cool with it. but as she was waving us across, we all heard the crunch of hot, car-on-car action. she was already on the other side of the road, but she had literally caused an accident. a small one, but a rear ender nonetheless. serina had no idea what had happened until a little while later, when she realized no one had crossed the street. very funny. so we approached both cars, told them everything was okay and merry Christmas. surprisingly, that seemed to assuage any fears of real damage. whew. but here we were, still without the vehicle required to help us actualize our bowling dreams. then a shitty, small Chinese van rolled up. I have no idea why it slowed down, but it did. so we all descended upon this van and the driver. after offering him 100 rmb, he agreed to take us to the bowling alley. so this one tiny Chinese man let 8 foreigners into his van and took us to our destination. amazing. granted, he was pretty much eye-fucking serina the whole way, but we all ultimately got to where we were going. so that’s success. bowling was good. and travis actually did get a turkey. that bastard…my game quickly went downhill after that.
so Christmas was mostly good, but there was something that was instantaneously sobering. i got a text message from the seester saying that vic chesnutt was in a coma following a suicide attempt. Found out this morning that he died. perhaps it’s self-important of me to claim any emotional attachment to someone I barely know, that seems like a fair accusation, but when I read that, I just felt gutted. I don’t know why.
I feel it’s worth mentioning a bit about the man before I continue to talk about MYSELF and MY feelings about him. it’s funny, I was just trying to think of where to start and I had this very clear memory of his show at mojo’s a few years ago. I think it was a benefit show for one of the local radio stations. anyhoo, you never know what kind of weirdos free, public radio events will draw (I mean this in the best possible way), but there was this one middle-aged hippie chick who was dancing and wiggling all over the floor. the collective embarrassment for her was palpable. vic picked up on it and sure made a lot of fun of her. but she had those annoying anklets that had bells on them. anyway, Justin west, in true Justin west form said “get it, girl.” and that’s what sticks out in my mind. j. west and vic making fun of this free-loving, aging hippie who had no idea she was the butt of so many jokes, both funny and/or mean.
there was another time when he played in Austin. chris and I were given the really cool task of chauffeuring him around. he’s in a wheelchair, so it was necessary. I’ve never had any close physical contact with someone with an obvious handicap before, so I was quite nervous. and I don’t mean this in a judgmental way, but in a purely logistical sense. how self-sufficient was he? was he a self-righteous wheelchair-er? was he weirded out by people in his close personal space? I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, so we sort of let him wheel himself around, feeling guilty and feeling it out, but feeling guilty about feeling guilty in case it was a part of his normal life. nothing to see here. but I seem to recall feeling a lot better to have him just fucking ask us to wheel him because it was hard work. that broke the ice. chris had to actually pick him up to put him into/remove him from the car, and in retrospect I’m jealous of that intimacy. it sounds weird. I’m well-aware. I don’t know how to explain it.
I remember his sense of humor. scathing, unforgiving, bitter, sarcastic. I remember him rather succinctly knocking a lead singer that I was fond of off of her pedestal. I think he just said something like “she was a fucking bitch.” and based on the previous banter, I had no choice but to believe him. I still can’t listen to this particular band anymore without thinking of his indictment of her. and I think that’s hilarious.
perhaps unrelated, but not really. there had to have been some segue in my brain. the college student I tutored last week had a Norton anthology of American literature with him. and I thought I was going to cream my jeans. except we can’t wear jeans at work. so I thought I was going to cream my corn. anyhoo, looking through it I came across a story by Raymond carver that I didn’t think of again until right now (actually a few lines ago). “cathedral.” I guess it’s shallow to find a linking technique between one very real handicapped person and a fictitious one in a story, but I’m human. the point is, it’s a fucking fantastic story. for all my hyperbole and my nationality, “fantastic” is not an oft- [mis]used word of mine.
and I think vic was a pretty fantastic human. A depressed and bitter one, but a funny man, and a man of principles. I’m incredibly lucky to have had any sort of personal interaction with him.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
purple rain, purple rain
rurple pain. rurple pain.
it’s been a very cold string of days here in Hangzhou. bonafide winter, I tell you! I’ve been sleeping on the futon in my “office” because it’s the warmest room in my apartment. that said, I scrapped any and all ambitious plans of yester weekend in favor of staying in and watching a movie. because that’s all the energy I could muster. that said…
I just finished watching something simultaneously terrible and amazing. I’m a 31 year old American living in china and today marked my first viewing of purple rain. holy crap. that’s all I can say. I think I felt a similar confusion after watching zanadu for the first time (in korea, which was equally strange), feeling profoundly inspired by how bad it was. but zanadu actually triggered quite a bit of fear in me as well--like some altered dream state from which you can’t quite escape, set in a vaguely ’80s and acutely terrifying landscape, replete with roller skates. eek. but hey, no fear with purple rain. except, why’d prince have to go and slap apollonia around? maybe he really IS just like his father, too bold. sigh.
since the movie is fresh in my mind, I think some reflection is worthy. depending on one’s definition of worth. and since my definition includes “blog-inspiring” I’d say the film is worthy.
57:45: prince, to movie dad, offscreen, “Where are you? Where are you? Answer me, motherfucker!” keep in mind, prince’s speaking voice is actually quite high. it was a shining moment, fer shiz. and the drama sure was….dramatic, even moreso because It’s all “autobiographical.” I’ll have to wikipedia this to find out. but if I had home internet I wouldn’t have wasted my time with this movie. so the wik will have to wait another few days.
I’d say it’s no injustice that prince hasn’t appeared in more films. but you can’t deny that this tiny, gyrating man on a stage (even a movie one) is something you have to watch. particularly when he’s dry-humping the monitors (multiple pumps, he’s prince after all) or doing the bootie shake at the end of the movie, after a particularly-james brown-ish dance montage. so much rubbing and licking. question though: considering his dad had just tried to blow his brains out, right before his very eyes, wouldn’t prince have thought of different hand gestures for “I would die for you?” point to self, mime blowing brains out, quickly segue into holding up 4 fingers, then point at lover of choice. repeat. it just seemed like an insensitive oversight.
i wonder what prince wears at home, around the house. does he have sweat pants? slippers?
I had nothing better to do after watching the movie (hence this piece of writing) so I pampered myself with the other dvd of bonus features. which meant, yes, removing the original, and replacing it with another dvd. a task I wouldn’t extend to just any 80s musical sensation.
one of the segments on the bonus features is the mtv premier party. wow. thank you, jehovah, for this veritable time capsule back to a whole joke of a decade. for real. so in the film, I thought maybe peeps were stretching it a little bit with clothes, hair, makeup. but then they showed footage (recorded live) of the premier. and holy crap, that’s how people actually dressed. again, I lived through the 80s, but I just didn’t remember it being so, uh, colorful. and asymmetrical. and swooping. and tight. and geometric. I’m not sure which of these observations relates to clothes or to hair or to both. anyway, there’s a bit where this vj with amazingly curly hair (white dude with essentially a jerry curl) has 3 “celebrities” lined up to ask them about the film: little Richard, Sheila e (celebrity?), and eddie Murphy. little Richard is interviewed first. and he holds up a bible that’s he’s had specially made for prince, as well as a book called steps to Christ. a little awkward. he just wants prince to realize that all of his musical gifts came from god. no harm there. and he talks for a bit about how all these different people are versions of him for their generation—prince, james brown, etc. Sheila e is trying not to laugh the whole time. she says maybe 5 words, then eddie Murphy makes fun of little Richard, claiming that prince, james brown and little richard were actually the eddie murphys of their generation. I guess it’s just something you have to see to understand and/or appreciate.
one more nugglet. john cougar mellencamp (sitting next to a rather subdued weird al): “compared to other rock n roll movies, you know like help, it’s a far better movie than that.“ who knew lil’ ol’ johnny cougar knew so much about rock n roll movies? I’m sure he speaks for all of us on that one.
so yes, today’s been a good day so far. I need to hit the dvd shop again. the slim pickins last time are also to be credited for today’s viewing pleasure.
it’s December 22nd. which means it’s close to Christmas. which means I should feel Christmas-y. whatever that means. i think I felt a tinge of sadness yesterday after a rather serendipitous afternoon nap. I’m sure it’s probably due to homesickness or other things that tend to creep up and make me more questioning of all aspects of my life. so yeah, during these “bouts” I’m generally less fun to be around, because yes, I usually am a veritable ball o’ fun. it’s been a while since one of these waves of “badness” has approached. I’m generally happy here in Hangzhou. I think I’m just starting to realize that there are certain trade-offs when you move to a new city. duh. in jiaxing I was really engrossed in my teaching and had no social life and felt like there was this big void that needed attention of some sort (keep it clean, folks. there’s no innuendo there…), a lifestyle, a hobby, openness. now I’m in Hangzhou and I go out and I have friends and a bike and a lifestyle, but there are certain things about my work environment that leave me feeling empty or less productive than I would like. so I’m feeling lately that I traded academic standards and job satisfaction for a social life. this is not to say that Hangzhou doesn’t have academic standards, they’re just not as high or as nurtured as they were in jiaxing. I’m sure there are statistics somewhere that disprove my claims, but having worked at both places, I know how it feels to be part of a machine that’s working vs. one that feels like the wheels are about to fall off. so that’s a tough thing to reconcile. but maybe my opinions will be worth more in a few months and I’ll be able to help implement some sort of change or steps in a right-er direction. there’s a very real fear, however, that even if I should get some title of distinction here, my actual ability to help anyone or to help the school won’t be a realistic part of my job. a whole litany of ideas that will never be actualized…but I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. found out today (December 23rd) that I might be forced to take on a roommate here in the next two weeks. me no likey. that’s what I call a dealbreaker, particularly when living alone was the dealmaker…we shall see.
back to el holiday. on Christmas eve I’m going to eat tepanyaki. dressed as santa clause. then we santa clauses shall commence to pub crawling. methinks it will be a fun night and an even more painful morning. we shall suffer as Christ suffered? there’s the link back to a sacred Christmas…but on that painful Christmas day all the ef schools are going to a fancy hotel for what I hear is a pretty expensive and spectacular brunch. the mimosas will be plentiful. and I hope there’s some good western fare. I ate jellyfish, fish balls and lotus root last night at our school’s party. and these delicacies were just okay. I also hate the inherent competition of eating in a Chinese group environment. all the dishes are communal and it’s a mad dash to get your chopsticks in before everyone else. a Chinese meal is pretty much a microcosm of any number of more frustrating societal situations that involve sharing or waiting or the vague (and apparently abstract) notion of patience.
I went to Chongqing a few weeks ago. the first time I’ve left Hangzhou (besides a few trips back to jiaxing for western union issues). I guess the reason was to celebrate jules and my birthday, but I was a few weeks too late for that. it was actually just an excuse to get out of Hangzhou for a while. and there’s absolutely no harm in admitting when you miss people. so there. I missed people, two in particular. which isn’t to say I don’t miss other people, but I don’t have the same near-instant gratification of hopping on a plane and feeling better about things.
Chongqing is a completely different world than Hangzhou, though. for starters, it’s massive. for a place that ultimately felt Chinese as fuck in all the right ways—the dirt and the grit and the ever-present bustle of commerce and general daily life--crossing the bridge into the city proper on the way in from the airport was surreal. this skyline of massive buildings and lights. but it’s a little hazy on account of pollution, lending it a post-apocalyptic, disastrous feel. it’s hard to explain. this wasn’t a bad feeling, just an otherworldly one. the city also has all these layers (jules has talked about that before) and hills. Hangzhou is relatively flat, hence my bike as transportation, so I think hills are cool. you walk out of jules’ old apartment, where she’s already in a high rise apartment building. and you’re on the ground floor of this particular apartment building. then you walk about 25 feet ahead and a little to the right and look down, and there’s another high rise apartment building that just sprouted out of the ground underneath the already massive apartment building. it was crazy! and also felt like another world. also, I think we ate hot pot 4 times in 3 days. so the hot pot is different from here in Zhejiang province. it seemed simpler and better in chongqing. and obviously spicier. the spoons extend out of this thick pit of ma spice and peppers. there were no green onions or little brown things that I don’t know what they are or giant chunks of ginger that trick you into believing that they’re potatoes. none of that fancy shit. and there is no way to construe this broth as “brown.” it’s red and spicy as fuck. and the animal fat that they dissolve in the pot coats both utensils and tofu with a thin, waxy layer. it sounds disgusting, but it’s awesome. this was most obvious in what was called the “happy pot.” it had metal grates in it (great!) that divided it into 9 partitions. so you could segregate your veggies for easier identification later.
another highlight of Chongqing was seeing jules’ shiny new ef school that she’s the dos of. it was just nice to see something clean and organized. and it had interactive whiteboards. I want one.
tomorrow I have to meet with a potential vip student. I say potential because he wants to meet me first to determine if I’m worth his time/money. so no pressure there. but he’s studying in America right now. the cool thing about teaching him is that he doesn’t actually need help with the general weak areas of esl learners, but he actually needs skill with writing essays for his literature class at his American university. so if this gig does happen, it will be very cool to revisit the traditional essay format. I’m a dork who gets excited by precisely this sort of situation—claim, evidence, warrant, oh my!. I hope I’m worthy. but I’ll find out after I post this.
hey, i'm worthy! met with the dude yesterday.
it’s been a very cold string of days here in Hangzhou. bonafide winter, I tell you! I’ve been sleeping on the futon in my “office” because it’s the warmest room in my apartment. that said, I scrapped any and all ambitious plans of yester weekend in favor of staying in and watching a movie. because that’s all the energy I could muster. that said…
I just finished watching something simultaneously terrible and amazing. I’m a 31 year old American living in china and today marked my first viewing of purple rain. holy crap. that’s all I can say. I think I felt a similar confusion after watching zanadu for the first time (in korea, which was equally strange), feeling profoundly inspired by how bad it was. but zanadu actually triggered quite a bit of fear in me as well--like some altered dream state from which you can’t quite escape, set in a vaguely ’80s and acutely terrifying landscape, replete with roller skates. eek. but hey, no fear with purple rain. except, why’d prince have to go and slap apollonia around? maybe he really IS just like his father, too bold. sigh.
since the movie is fresh in my mind, I think some reflection is worthy. depending on one’s definition of worth. and since my definition includes “blog-inspiring” I’d say the film is worthy.
57:45: prince, to movie dad, offscreen, “Where are you? Where are you? Answer me, motherfucker!” keep in mind, prince’s speaking voice is actually quite high. it was a shining moment, fer shiz. and the drama sure was….dramatic, even moreso because It’s all “autobiographical.” I’ll have to wikipedia this to find out. but if I had home internet I wouldn’t have wasted my time with this movie. so the wik will have to wait another few days.
I’d say it’s no injustice that prince hasn’t appeared in more films. but you can’t deny that this tiny, gyrating man on a stage (even a movie one) is something you have to watch. particularly when he’s dry-humping the monitors (multiple pumps, he’s prince after all) or doing the bootie shake at the end of the movie, after a particularly-james brown-ish dance montage. so much rubbing and licking. question though: considering his dad had just tried to blow his brains out, right before his very eyes, wouldn’t prince have thought of different hand gestures for “I would die for you?” point to self, mime blowing brains out, quickly segue into holding up 4 fingers, then point at lover of choice. repeat. it just seemed like an insensitive oversight.
i wonder what prince wears at home, around the house. does he have sweat pants? slippers?
I had nothing better to do after watching the movie (hence this piece of writing) so I pampered myself with the other dvd of bonus features. which meant, yes, removing the original, and replacing it with another dvd. a task I wouldn’t extend to just any 80s musical sensation.
one of the segments on the bonus features is the mtv premier party. wow. thank you, jehovah, for this veritable time capsule back to a whole joke of a decade. for real. so in the film, I thought maybe peeps were stretching it a little bit with clothes, hair, makeup. but then they showed footage (recorded live) of the premier. and holy crap, that’s how people actually dressed. again, I lived through the 80s, but I just didn’t remember it being so, uh, colorful. and asymmetrical. and swooping. and tight. and geometric. I’m not sure which of these observations relates to clothes or to hair or to both. anyway, there’s a bit where this vj with amazingly curly hair (white dude with essentially a jerry curl) has 3 “celebrities” lined up to ask them about the film: little Richard, Sheila e (celebrity?), and eddie Murphy. little Richard is interviewed first. and he holds up a bible that’s he’s had specially made for prince, as well as a book called steps to Christ. a little awkward. he just wants prince to realize that all of his musical gifts came from god. no harm there. and he talks for a bit about how all these different people are versions of him for their generation—prince, james brown, etc. Sheila e is trying not to laugh the whole time. she says maybe 5 words, then eddie Murphy makes fun of little Richard, claiming that prince, james brown and little richard were actually the eddie murphys of their generation. I guess it’s just something you have to see to understand and/or appreciate.
one more nugglet. john cougar mellencamp (sitting next to a rather subdued weird al): “compared to other rock n roll movies, you know like help, it’s a far better movie than that.“ who knew lil’ ol’ johnny cougar knew so much about rock n roll movies? I’m sure he speaks for all of us on that one.
so yes, today’s been a good day so far. I need to hit the dvd shop again. the slim pickins last time are also to be credited for today’s viewing pleasure.
it’s December 22nd. which means it’s close to Christmas. which means I should feel Christmas-y. whatever that means. i think I felt a tinge of sadness yesterday after a rather serendipitous afternoon nap. I’m sure it’s probably due to homesickness or other things that tend to creep up and make me more questioning of all aspects of my life. so yeah, during these “bouts” I’m generally less fun to be around, because yes, I usually am a veritable ball o’ fun. it’s been a while since one of these waves of “badness” has approached. I’m generally happy here in Hangzhou. I think I’m just starting to realize that there are certain trade-offs when you move to a new city. duh. in jiaxing I was really engrossed in my teaching and had no social life and felt like there was this big void that needed attention of some sort (keep it clean, folks. there’s no innuendo there…), a lifestyle, a hobby, openness. now I’m in Hangzhou and I go out and I have friends and a bike and a lifestyle, but there are certain things about my work environment that leave me feeling empty or less productive than I would like. so I’m feeling lately that I traded academic standards and job satisfaction for a social life. this is not to say that Hangzhou doesn’t have academic standards, they’re just not as high or as nurtured as they were in jiaxing. I’m sure there are statistics somewhere that disprove my claims, but having worked at both places, I know how it feels to be part of a machine that’s working vs. one that feels like the wheels are about to fall off. so that’s a tough thing to reconcile. but maybe my opinions will be worth more in a few months and I’ll be able to help implement some sort of change or steps in a right-er direction. there’s a very real fear, however, that even if I should get some title of distinction here, my actual ability to help anyone or to help the school won’t be a realistic part of my job. a whole litany of ideas that will never be actualized…but I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. found out today (December 23rd) that I might be forced to take on a roommate here in the next two weeks. me no likey. that’s what I call a dealbreaker, particularly when living alone was the dealmaker…we shall see.
back to el holiday. on Christmas eve I’m going to eat tepanyaki. dressed as santa clause. then we santa clauses shall commence to pub crawling. methinks it will be a fun night and an even more painful morning. we shall suffer as Christ suffered? there’s the link back to a sacred Christmas…but on that painful Christmas day all the ef schools are going to a fancy hotel for what I hear is a pretty expensive and spectacular brunch. the mimosas will be plentiful. and I hope there’s some good western fare. I ate jellyfish, fish balls and lotus root last night at our school’s party. and these delicacies were just okay. I also hate the inherent competition of eating in a Chinese group environment. all the dishes are communal and it’s a mad dash to get your chopsticks in before everyone else. a Chinese meal is pretty much a microcosm of any number of more frustrating societal situations that involve sharing or waiting or the vague (and apparently abstract) notion of patience.
I went to Chongqing a few weeks ago. the first time I’ve left Hangzhou (besides a few trips back to jiaxing for western union issues). I guess the reason was to celebrate jules and my birthday, but I was a few weeks too late for that. it was actually just an excuse to get out of Hangzhou for a while. and there’s absolutely no harm in admitting when you miss people. so there. I missed people, two in particular. which isn’t to say I don’t miss other people, but I don’t have the same near-instant gratification of hopping on a plane and feeling better about things.
Chongqing is a completely different world than Hangzhou, though. for starters, it’s massive. for a place that ultimately felt Chinese as fuck in all the right ways—the dirt and the grit and the ever-present bustle of commerce and general daily life--crossing the bridge into the city proper on the way in from the airport was surreal. this skyline of massive buildings and lights. but it’s a little hazy on account of pollution, lending it a post-apocalyptic, disastrous feel. it’s hard to explain. this wasn’t a bad feeling, just an otherworldly one. the city also has all these layers (jules has talked about that before) and hills. Hangzhou is relatively flat, hence my bike as transportation, so I think hills are cool. you walk out of jules’ old apartment, where she’s already in a high rise apartment building. and you’re on the ground floor of this particular apartment building. then you walk about 25 feet ahead and a little to the right and look down, and there’s another high rise apartment building that just sprouted out of the ground underneath the already massive apartment building. it was crazy! and also felt like another world. also, I think we ate hot pot 4 times in 3 days. so the hot pot is different from here in Zhejiang province. it seemed simpler and better in chongqing. and obviously spicier. the spoons extend out of this thick pit of ma spice and peppers. there were no green onions or little brown things that I don’t know what they are or giant chunks of ginger that trick you into believing that they’re potatoes. none of that fancy shit. and there is no way to construe this broth as “brown.” it’s red and spicy as fuck. and the animal fat that they dissolve in the pot coats both utensils and tofu with a thin, waxy layer. it sounds disgusting, but it’s awesome. this was most obvious in what was called the “happy pot.” it had metal grates in it (great!) that divided it into 9 partitions. so you could segregate your veggies for easier identification later.
another highlight of Chongqing was seeing jules’ shiny new ef school that she’s the dos of. it was just nice to see something clean and organized. and it had interactive whiteboards. I want one.
tomorrow I have to meet with a potential vip student. I say potential because he wants to meet me first to determine if I’m worth his time/money. so no pressure there. but he’s studying in America right now. the cool thing about teaching him is that he doesn’t actually need help with the general weak areas of esl learners, but he actually needs skill with writing essays for his literature class at his American university. so if this gig does happen, it will be very cool to revisit the traditional essay format. I’m a dork who gets excited by precisely this sort of situation—claim, evidence, warrant, oh my!. I hope I’m worthy. but I’ll find out after I post this.
hey, i'm worthy! met with the dude yesterday.
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