I took a train somewhere. For the first time in what seems like far too long. When it’s been a while, you forget how you miss the little things—the smell of a Chinese train station in winter: instant noodles commingling with all sorts of Chinese medicinal root smells. Come to think of it, that’s how the office smells these days. in a train station is to be in motion. The shuffling of masses of people. in the thick of that, one can’t help but feel a palpable sense of progress. In this most overt of countries, this is one subtlety that I’m okay with temporarily suspending.
Oh yeah, and there was an old guy coughing blood into the trashcan. Seems worth noting.
I had to go to chengdu to add pages to my passport. All in preparation for my upcoming trip to hong kong. 4 days with an itinerary built (I suspect) on alcohol consumption. Feels like I haven’t partied hearty in some time. Chengdu seemed okay, from what I saw of it—highlights were bike lanes, peter’s tex mex and the subway linked up with the train station. Felt infinitely more convenient and navigable to a newcomer than chongqing does, and I’m not even technically a newcomer. But I like that about chongqing. I’ve been here for 3 months and still have no idea what the city looks like or how it’s laid out. I guess I have plenty of time.
Anyhoo, at the American consulate I was reminded of why stereotypes of Americans exist. Quite simply, it’s because douche bags exist. And those douche bags hang out at the consulate at the same time as me. I met one guy whose conversation starter was “so have you ever had to get a marriage license in china?” because obviously, all the Americans at the consulate that day were there to marry a chinese woman, just like he was! Then he went on to tell me all about “manufacturing cultures.” Yeah, I was a little thrown at first, too. But as he kindly explained, in far too much detail, he sends bacterial cultures to companies so they can make cheese and yogurt and other food items that require such things. cool. This is the same guy who 1) complained about airport security and pat downs and all other manner of unconstitutional shit that it isn’t unique to complain about; and 2) I heard refer to muslims as terrorists under his breath. Really? So we’re still stuck on that…and he was from the Midwest, just like me!
Douche bag number two made stupid comments about my cowboy boots to start his conversation. Classy. “you got a Stetson hat to go with it?” har har. It was almost like the 2 of them (dbags 1 and 2, respectively) were competing for my attention, just so they could unknowingly offend me. Dbag 2 didn’t have anything as specific as cheesy culture to annoy the shit out of me, it was generally everything about him, and his complete disregard for social cues, like the one that signals “hey, quit fucking talking to me.” he followed me out. I said I was going to get coffee, so he thought he’d invite me to metro to buy an entire bag of coffee. Because “metro has really good coffee.” Metro is a supermarket. Not a place where people trying to separate themselves from annoying people go to buy coffee that they can’t then immediately do anything with. But thanks for the thought. I guess there are just days when i would much rather be devoid of nationality, if these are the peeps I’m unwittingly lumped with.
Moving on. There’s a ktv outside my apartment. The neon lights that say ktv are constantly changing, not obnoxiously, but the light seems to make it’s way up to my floor and gently pulse its way through the curtains of my room. so my night is pulsing. And my sleep is pulsing. And I feel when I’m in this pulsing sleep like my eyes are widening in surprise with the subtle color gradation. And it’s all very pleasant, being awake and aware of this pulsing, even with my eyes closed. And I really don’t mind that it keeps me awake.
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