Almost blessedly so
Dongshankou is noisy at all times
In the morning, waking up is easy
down the stairs,
out the door
out the gate
into a Guangzhou morning
noisy, steamy, smelly
crowded and absolutely beautiful
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Rude... lewd
If you aren't teaching ESL the awesomeness of those two words may not occur to you.
Rs and Ls are difficult.
During pronunciation class one of my students said the only girl in class was lude because she was from Beijing.
It was meant as a tease, he wasn't being a douche... it caused a laugh...
And then when I brought up Rude and Lewd, everyone lost it.
I have concluded:
In a class full of horney males, the only just, right and moral thing to do is to give out bonus points for lewdness.
It may get locker room - without the homoerotic overtones - real quick
Rs and Ls are difficult.
During pronunciation class one of my students said the only girl in class was lude because she was from Beijing.
It was meant as a tease, he wasn't being a douche... it caused a laugh...
And then when I brought up Rude and Lewd, everyone lost it.
I have concluded:
In a class full of horney males, the only just, right and moral thing to do is to give out bonus points for lewdness.
It may get locker room - without the homoerotic overtones - real quick
Sunday, April 19, 2009
A day late
April 18th/09
Today had a Timeless quality to it.
The rain in GZ gives everything a slightly different feel. It cools things down, but not enough to require any kind of insulation.
It gives the city a really cinematic quality.
I went to Chigang Pagoda today.
The area itself feels decrepit, like someone forgot that it was there after they named the Metro station after it.
Huge portions of tiles have been ripped out of the walkways, and the visitors centre is being packed up when I get there.
Up the crumbling overgrown stairs to the pagoda itself, listening to the rain hammer on my umbrella.
Three boys, crouched inside the lower level; shielded from the rain, dicing for money.
The upper eight levels are closed, and the bottom one is covered in Chinese grafitti, inside and out.
This probably says something about GZ... I'm just not sure what.
I went in search of a temple, having not been to one yet; FangCun has a temple.
I got sidetracked by brickwork alleys under trees. People going about their lives as if to spite the monsoon
For all of today, everything is right in the world.
Today had a Timeless quality to it.
The rain in GZ gives everything a slightly different feel. It cools things down, but not enough to require any kind of insulation.
It gives the city a really cinematic quality.
I went to Chigang Pagoda today.
The area itself feels decrepit, like someone forgot that it was there after they named the Metro station after it.
Huge portions of tiles have been ripped out of the walkways, and the visitors centre is being packed up when I get there.
Up the crumbling overgrown stairs to the pagoda itself, listening to the rain hammer on my umbrella.
Three boys, crouched inside the lower level; shielded from the rain, dicing for money.
The upper eight levels are closed, and the bottom one is covered in Chinese grafitti, inside and out.
This probably says something about GZ... I'm just not sure what.
I went in search of a temple, having not been to one yet; FangCun has a temple.
I got sidetracked by brickwork alleys under trees. People going about their lives as if to spite the monsoon
For all of today, everything is right in the world.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Resolution dissolution
It happened so quickly. When I was getting redy to leave, I promised myself I wouldn't catch yellow fever.
But there's the Metro.
An incident on the 15th in the Metro (maybe a later post) crippled my resolve. After torture like that it's a miracle that my resolve wasn't hung drawn and quartered. All I needed was one little push and I'd fall of the no-sino-wagon.
I got pushed pretty hard yesterday.
On the Metro.
No physical contact this time, just eye contact. That being said, how many carrots will (unsolicited) stick their tongue out at you?
My game is really rusty at the moment, as yesterday's incident, and a new one today have conclusively proven.
I need to get back on my game.
I need to learn Chinese.
* * *
It occurs to me that the reason I get stared at more than your average foreigner has little to do with my height. And little to do with my delusions-of-Keaton style. It has everything to do with the fact that I have the biggest goddamn nose these people have ever seen.
But there's the Metro.
An incident on the 15th in the Metro (maybe a later post) crippled my resolve. After torture like that it's a miracle that my resolve wasn't hung drawn and quartered. All I needed was one little push and I'd fall of the no-sino-wagon.
I got pushed pretty hard yesterday.
On the Metro.
No physical contact this time, just eye contact. That being said, how many carrots will (unsolicited) stick their tongue out at you?
My game is really rusty at the moment, as yesterday's incident, and a new one today have conclusively proven.
I need to get back on my game.
I need to learn Chinese.
* * *
It occurs to me that the reason I get stared at more than your average foreigner has little to do with my height. And little to do with my delusions-of-Keaton style. It has everything to do with the fact that I have the biggest goddamn nose these people have ever seen.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Welcome to Chinese
Or something like that...
Welcome to Guangzhou, the City of Flowers.
One of the things you forget about China is that it frequently and unexpectedly smells like raw sewage. And never anywhere that makes sense. You'll be walking along the street in the most affluent corner of the city, and then bam... raw sewage. This happens frequently. It's worse than Beijing, which was smelly.
The humidity is so high that the air feels dense and nearly solid. So at least once a day, every day you will feel like you are walking through a sewer, hip deep in feces (which by the way is the QE spelling, the AE spelling is faeces... who knew?). The worst part is: this never happens at the same place, it's always somewhere new. That shit never strikes the same place twice... like lightning.
So they call it "The City Of Flowers"
I am beginning to suspect that some chinese do possess a sense of irony.
Don't get me wrong, ninja-like shit smells are one of the things I love about this place. It's just another one of those things that makes you smile, shake your head, think to yourself: "Oh China, how I love thee," and then hold your breath for five paces.
One of the things you will notice about foreigners is that there is a sense of kinship that develops almost immediately. No doubt it has something to do with the fact that we all kinda stand out and usually above everyone else, but I think there's something else to it too. In order to truely love China, and to be able to spend any length of time here, you need to have a finely developed sense of the absurd. Like the example above.
The characteristic portrait of an expat in China: male, under 35, whip smart, educated, slightly dishevelled with a slight flavour of pirate or highwayman... something illicite and dangerous but still quite appealing. So I'm not talking about those guys in suits: well dressed, well groomed who take cabs everywhere and live in one of the affluent white ghettos on the outskirts of town, just the ones who live closer to the centre, who all know each other and all share that finely developed sense of the absurd.
I think the reason that some of the best and brightest Millenials (b. 1979-1991) I have ever met are here and not in the West - and the source of the deep sense of kinship - is because we couldn't quite hack it back home. I get the sense that most of us were viewed at home as oddities, savants and prodigies of one kind or another. But it's more than just that, we could have run away to somewhere other than China, yet we ended up here by accident or design, and will stay because our sense of absurdity may just be a little too finely developed.
Sartre would have loved this place
Welcome to Guangzhou, the City of Flowers.
One of the things you forget about China is that it frequently and unexpectedly smells like raw sewage. And never anywhere that makes sense. You'll be walking along the street in the most affluent corner of the city, and then bam... raw sewage. This happens frequently. It's worse than Beijing, which was smelly.
The humidity is so high that the air feels dense and nearly solid. So at least once a day, every day you will feel like you are walking through a sewer, hip deep in feces (which by the way is the QE spelling, the AE spelling is faeces... who knew?). The worst part is: this never happens at the same place, it's always somewhere new. That shit never strikes the same place twice... like lightning.
So they call it "The City Of Flowers"
I am beginning to suspect that some chinese do possess a sense of irony.
Don't get me wrong, ninja-like shit smells are one of the things I love about this place. It's just another one of those things that makes you smile, shake your head, think to yourself: "Oh China, how I love thee," and then hold your breath for five paces.
One of the things you will notice about foreigners is that there is a sense of kinship that develops almost immediately. No doubt it has something to do with the fact that we all kinda stand out and usually above everyone else, but I think there's something else to it too. In order to truely love China, and to be able to spend any length of time here, you need to have a finely developed sense of the absurd. Like the example above.
The characteristic portrait of an expat in China: male, under 35, whip smart, educated, slightly dishevelled with a slight flavour of pirate or highwayman... something illicite and dangerous but still quite appealing. So I'm not talking about those guys in suits: well dressed, well groomed who take cabs everywhere and live in one of the affluent white ghettos on the outskirts of town, just the ones who live closer to the centre, who all know each other and all share that finely developed sense of the absurd.
I think the reason that some of the best and brightest Millenials (b. 1979-1991) I have ever met are here and not in the West - and the source of the deep sense of kinship - is because we couldn't quite hack it back home. I get the sense that most of us were viewed at home as oddities, savants and prodigies of one kind or another. But it's more than just that, we could have run away to somewhere other than China, yet we ended up here by accident or design, and will stay because our sense of absurdity may just be a little too finely developed.
Sartre would have loved this place
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