T-Munny

Eat More Kitties - The China Chapter
2002-12-07 12:47:10 (UTC)

China: How Do I Love Thee?

Let Me Count The Ways...
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...
...

Hmmm, not making much progress, now are we? A thousand
apologies for failing to meet the Friday deadline, but the
wondrous government once again apparently had nothing
better to do this week than block my journal site. Ah well.

First order of business: this morning I had to give away my
beloved flatmates. It was heartrending. I asked every last
one of my pupils over this past week, as all 400 of them
paraded through my apartment for their respective
examinations, if they knew of any possible home for two
adorable kitties, but alas. None was to be had. Last
weekend I thought I had found at least a partial solution
in one of my distinguished English Department colleagues, a
young Chinese woman who spouted copious quantities of
adoration and abject yearning for the feline species. So I
boxed up Bob Dearest for her and delivered him personally,
along with cat food, a litter box, litter, a bed, and
several toys. I explained in great detail how animals
generally take 2-3 days to adjust to their new
surroundings, along with the many other aspects of good
kitten care. Less than 12 hours later she returned him,
litter box and all, irritably complaining that he refused
to play with her and even had the gall to meow once during
the night. Well, if that isn't grounds for disownment, I
don't know what is. What was I thinking delivering such a
delicate flower of a girl into the hands (paws?) of that
barbarous and ruthless hellcat? Anyhow, last night a
graduate student of mine called to tell me her aunt who
lives nearby had two kittens stolen recently and would be
delighted to adopt mine in their stead. And after a great
deal of throat clearing and vague commentary on the
weather, I found myself being informed that she would be by
to get them at 10 this morning. So at 10:45, after 3/4 of
an hour of vain attempts at stuffing them both into a
cardboard box, a lot of yelling and yowling, and 2 bruised
knees from my repeated dives across the coffee table, we
finally trooped (or staggered, to be more precise) to their
new residence. I don't think I will ever forgive myself for
handing them over to the shrieking woman who insisted on
tying dirty bits of twine around their necks and and
subsequently attaching their squirming little selves to a 3-
legged stool. She exclaimed over and over again on
how "clean and shiny" they were. Amazing what happens when
one doesn't force animals to live in a malnourished mudpit,
now isn't it? No...I'm not bitter. Not at all.

Alright, I guess I've got motivation enough to write up
last Saturday's trip to the street market. Angel, Bill (my
35 year old freshman), and I drove into town to visit the
home of another student, a girl named Haze, whose parents
live in the city. We spent the morning engrossed in
fruitless attempts to educate me in the fine art of jiaotze
(funky Chinese dumplings) making, and then traipsed our
merry (or rather my merry and their highly exasperated) way
over to Futza Miao, one of the largest bizarres in China.
It proved to be quite the entertaining outing, as we
engaged in a rather unique form of "undercover haggling"
with the street vendors. First I would enter their stand
and casually glance through the goods, before shaking my
head, waving off their eager entreaties, and sauntering
around the nearest corner. There I would rendezvous with my
3 accomplices, tell them what I wished to purchase, and
then watch surreptitiously as they performed the
traditional Chinese ritual of bargaining. It really is a
beautiful sight to behold...I have no idea why it hasn't
been documented by Discovery Channel yet. They shout
violently, make wild and inappropriate gestures, and
sometimes even go so far as to feign calling for the
authorities to report illegal trade. Once a reasonable
price was finally agreed upon, they would give me the
secret signal I had arranged (a hair toss followed by two
coughs...this proved particularly amusing when poor Bill
got in on the act), and I would materialize on the spot to
settle the bill and claim my prize. At this point the
vendor would fly into an absolute rage, flushing brilliant
orange (Chinese people never quite make it to the red end
of the spectrum), and screeching "Laowei Laowei" at the
top of their lungs. This means "foreigner," and the reason
for their outrage is that all Chinese believe Westerners
are inherently rich and therefore jack the prices sky-high
whenever we blunder into their shops. Consequently, they
feel quite cheated if one of us manages to get a remotely
fair deal on something. Then my fellow conspirators and
myself would dash away to congratulate ourselves before
repeating the process on another unsuspecting victim.
Muahahaha. I may not be doing much for international
relations here, but at least I enjoy myself.

Anyways, that's all for tonight. It's snowing outside, and
I need to try to make it home while I can still see the
road (street lights are far too exorbitant for my
administration to even give a second thought to installing,
of course). 5 more days...

Zai jian




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