Mishaps, Delights, and Rain

Friday, I'm afraid, has vanished almost entirely from my memory. My journal records that I hung around in the morning feeling sleepy. My task log records that I did a decent amount of work on both my dissertation project and the Chinese article. From this I conclude that I must have gone to the library. But it's strange for a day to vanish so completely from my memory.

I know that in the evening, I dropped my books off at the apartment and went to get a haircut. I went back to the first place I had gone, because they give a massage. I really wanted the massage! The massage did not disappoint, but the haircut did. It was one of those funny lessons in counterintuitive things about trying to operate in another culture. See, it's my fourth haircut here. After some trial and error, I have finally figured out basically what I want. I said it all quite smoothly--sideburns long, above the ears short, back shorter than most Chinese people like, please, and I sort of comb the front forward so trim that a little. I was proud of myself that I was able to express things so clearly. But somehow the result was disastrous. From this I conclude that I should just let them use their best judgement and cut my hair however they want.

Meanwhile, nothing grows out slower than a too-short, bad haircut. It's especially annoying since the last haircut I got was so good and pleasing. I should have just gone back to those guys! It bothers me more than I would expect, looking like a degenerate boy with a square face and cowlicks. No, I am NOT going to post a picture. My only consolation is that there are more than two weeks before I go to see my darling, and he loves me anyway, even with the hair. My two new friends, the Princess and the Lama, are both sequestered with their significant others, so I don't have to self-deprecatingly excuse myself by telling the tale of my apparent linguistic/coiffuristic ineptitude.

Ah vanity vanity. I suppose it is good practice in not caring about appearances, as I always claim I don't. But what I realize is that I don't care about OTHER people's appearance, don't judge them thereby. I'm not sure I trust other people to do the same! Except for Pocket of Bolts, whose theory about the subjective nature of human physical attractiveness is a constant comfort to me. I only ever argue against it because I want to make sure he really believes it.

To make up for my ineptitude vis-a-vis the hair thing, I did have a small amusing triumph at the grocery store, where I went afterwards.

I was trying to buy q-tips. I knew they should have q-tips...somewhere. But I didn't know where. Also, I had no clue of the Chinese word for q-tips, not even the first hint of a guess. I circled four or five times around the overly fancy and intimidating cosmetics and toiletry section of the Carrefour. As always, it was mobbed, making it even more difficult to see anything, as well as slow going. Finally I was faced with the dilemma--ask, or give up.

"Excuse me," I said politely in Chinese (almost all the dialogs quoted here actually take place in Chinese, by the way, except the ones with American friends). "I'm looking for something but I don't know what it's called." (That sounds kind of profound in English, but not in Chinese.) The salesgirl was one of the better and more patient ones. She prepared herself to meet the challenge. "It's white," I went on. "And small"--I gestured with my fingers--"and comes in separate individual sticks." The salesgirl said something and made an unmistakeable ear-cleaning motion, and I knew I was victorious.

They were not two feet from where we were standing.

And why, you might ask, did I not say "things you clean your ears with"? Search me. I guess I doubted whether or not that was actually what Chinese people use them for. Besides, I was buying them to clean my keyboard and the hard to reach crevices of my humidifier, not my ears.

***

Saturday. Rain! It must have rained all night. It was so exciting to look out the window and see it still coming down. People were walking through the courtyard with umbrellas. Umbrellas! When was the last time I saw those? I was comically excited.



No classes. I mooned around most of the morning, thinking about the meaning of beauty. I know this sounds kind of random, but since my boyfriend is a philosopher, we had a great conversation about it, which only made me want to think even more. There's a particular kind of thinking that is deeply addictive. It has its bad side--trying to find something on the internet, say, that you know should be there; or trying to fix some problem your computer is having. But its good side is this sort of thing: trying to figure something out, trying to establish a rational structure behind your rhetoric, trying to find a way to be convincing about your intuitions.

A care package came from my mom. Thanks mom! It contained, among other things, all the makings for a pasta dinner, including a fork to eat it with. Yay!! It was such a novelty, actually eating with a real metal fork. And the pasta sauce was amazingly good for being made from a mix. I think part of it was having parmesan cheese. Actual parmesan cheese! They must sell it here somewhere, but I haven't noticed any. Oh, delicious. I was highly impressed, all in all. We should all be deprived of simple things sometimes, just so we recognize how wonderful they are.

There were many other goodies in the care package. One was exceedingly decadent chocolate. I am trying to ration it. This is difficult. Another was more crack--er, I mean, novels in English. Also warm fluffy socks, which is good because it's suddenly gotten cold again. It is so fun getting care packages, despite feeling a bit guilty about how expensive they are to send overseas!

Saturday afternoon: I went to the next-door Starbucks and slogged through another chapter of the book I'm reviewing. Slog slog. It is heavy going. I had a funny experience with the guy behind the counter. I was standing in front of the menu trying to decide whether I wanted hot chocolate or cappuccino. The guy behind the counter asked me what I wanted and I said I was thinking. Then he very properly allowed me to think in peace, and I was about to be impressed. But then the other guy behind the counter, who seemed to be his boss or senior, scolded and chided him: "How come you haven't offered some suggestion? Go on!" "How about a cappuccino," the counter-man said, abashed, like a dog that has been scolded. "Or a mocha." I laughed, half amused and half irritated. "We have Starbucks in the US, you know," I said. "I understand the menu. I'm just trying to make up my mind." I'm not sure if I really got my point across. What I really wanted to have said was, it's better to leave one alone then to throw out random suggestions. But that was a bit much for my presence of mind on a Saturday afternoon. It was kind of amusing though.

After I finished my alloted slogging, I went and dumped the book back in my room and took off for some much more pleasurable slogging, a walk in the rain.

The first thing I saw was an enormous line of people with brilliantly colored umbrellas, stretching all around this building and looping back on itself. I walked boldly up to a friendly looking security guard and asked him what they were waiting for. "To buy books," he said, "and for signing." "Oh, I get it," I said after a moment's contemplation. "A famous author is here?" It seemed so. "Which one?" "Yu Dan." Hmm. I have not heard of Yu Dan. Maybe some of my readers are more up on contemporary Chinese literature than I am. I did not join the line, but I did take a picture of it, rather moved by this display of readerly dedication. I mean, it was raining and all.

I walked west along the Fourth Ring road, just to find out what was out there. Answer: not much. But emptiness in itself is interesting when one lives on a busy street surrounded by so many people and tall buildings and cars. On the south side of the road there was a golf course with not a single blade of green grass on it. That's a rare sight in itself! I wanted to walk on the brown hills, but the place well-fenced and guarded.


On the right side of the road there were first some businesses, and then a lot of nothing. The field didn't really feel like an empty field, though. It had the feeling of a place where homeless people camp. Or where something commercial and sketchy takes place. Or both. I was interested in it because it was different and an open space, but decided not to linger.


It was a long walk. I walked for more than forty-five minutes, listening to music, and still did not reach the place where the ring road turns south. Concentric circles can kick your butt, if you go far enough out from the center. I took a bus back to the campus! Had myself some dinner at one of the cafeterias, a motley assortment of dishes--I'm still not very good at harmonizing them and figuring out a pleasing combination of food groups. But I did at least fill my belly!

Then I bought some more books. More than 200 RMB worth! That many books was enough to get me very special treatment from the bookstore people. They wrapped my books up in three layers of plastic bags, gave me a special kind of receipt, and ceremoniously presented me with their card. While overall I don't set much store by it, it is novel to be treated like a VIP once in a while.

I had to buy an umbrella on the way out. It was raining really hard, not just the fine drizzle there had been during my walk. On the way home, I made a poem. Actually, it is a cross between a poem and an illustrated children's book. Only I don't have the time or talent to make the illustrations that I see in my mind. Usually I don't post poems on this blog because no one in the modern world seems to like poetry much. But since this is an occasional poem and not a serious one, I am hoping it won't offend anyone.


Written on the Day of the First Spring Rain

Tonight I wish I had one
hundred and nine umbrellas,
one for every one I saw today.

I would open them all up
in an umbrella cloud
and admire them from far away,
standing in the rain.