She was our salvation -- she spoke cantonese and knew how to exist in Guangzhou; I almost dropped on my knees to begin begging her for my life (or rather her guidance), but John started flirting with her with a smile. Some guys have that extra edge...
Our new heroine was MeeMee. She was raised in San Francisco by Cantonese parents and thus maintained her conversational cantonese. Her companion was Kim, a Korean-born US citizen. She couldn't speak Cantonese of course, but she could read chinese characters. Together, we became a 'Gang-of-Four', each contributing a special something as we gingerly visited a nation in crisis. International visitors were scarce, and businesses dependent upon tourism felt the pinch. And the effects of the Tien-an-Mein massacre were profoundly evident everywhere (per MeeMee's witness).
The train station was located in the heart of the city. We boarded in Hong Kong, and jumped off in downtown Guangzhou after viewing rural China in between. Beyond the station gates, the rabbling populace included the worst among the innocent with both sharing a common destitution. Some were obviously desperate and begging for a daily existence. Others gave us cold unpleasant stares. Dozens boisterously offered taxi service or they wanted to exchange renmibi for F.E.C. They were relentless, loud and demanding.
In my cordial way, I smiled and said 'no', but this only egged them on. Alert with fear, loathing and frustration, I was their focus; my new friends were left unharried. Probably mistaken for their tour guide, I must have been a profitable prospect. My anger grew as their taunts continued. These people were too different to understand. I twirled in rage and growled 'NO !' One guy fell on his ass expecting a blow. A dozen others leapt back in fearful surprise. They left me alone only under threat of force.
The plaza in the shade of the station building was crowded. Clumps of tense misery. Most were waiting to buy a train ticket. With their possessions packed in cardboard and twine, they often wait for days living in the open. Few could afford the readily-available black market tickets at 4 to 5 times the counter price. Bullies prey upon the innocent masses as a blind beggar without hands or teeth pleads for loose change... |
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Traditionally, the chinese culture emphasizes the old ways and does not encourage individual expression against the norm. To be chinese here universally assumes similar values and mores, yet common goodwill among countrymen is nominal (at best), and true friendship is reserved for extended family. Being neither, foreigners may be treated accordingly. Other cultures are difficult to accept, let alone understand. And in either case, outsiders are considered barbaric, but their wealth, unpredictability, physical size and violent nature is respected.
The relatively recent introduction of capitalism and other western influences though, has been part of many changes and many problems. It is cutting across the grain of a very old culture. Crime, corruption, fraud, prostitution and the black market is being driven by greed (sometimes need) and an obsessive fixation for durable luxuries, ie. refrigerators and televisions.
But there is a happier side to China too...
Getting around China is an adventure, but in Guangzhou it's a psychotic episode. There are no traffic lights, signs, crosswalks, driving regulations, or enforcement officers, but sometimes you can find a painted line dividing the road IF you're crazy enough to care. Horrified, we watched our driver playing chicken against bicyclists, pedestrians, other taxis, and an occasional bus or small truck.
The people show little regard for life including their own. Literally risking life and limb, pedestrians step in front of on-coming traffic to cross a street. This challenges a driver to stop or honk his horn warning that they're almost 'dead meat'. Likewise, thousands of cyclist caravan among foot and gas-powered traffic frequently dodging, weaving, and colliding. The chaos causes an inordinate number of street fatalities and injuries; this has been a long-standing problem in China.
During my three days in Guangzhou, our various taxi drivers struck three cyclists and one pedestrian among countless near-misses and foolish risks. All were hit-and-run. On the brighter-side, they don't have trial lawyers or auto insurance premiums, (just summary executions and state-sponsored healthcare).
Because of the recent political situation, there were almost no foreign visitors or tourists in China. Hotels and the tourist trade were in dire need of business, so we managed to stay at Guangzhou's finest hotel with a 45% discount. The White Swan Hotel is the finest hotel in China, and is considered among the leading hotels in the world. With its solid-wood european furniture, lovely silk wallpaper, total climate control, expansive view of the Pearl River, high-class discotheque, waterfalls, museum treasures, amazingly well-prepared western-style cuisine and 5 full-time attendants per floor, our accomodations were unpardonably luxurious, particularly given such primitive living standards just a 100 yards away.
Later that day, the Gang-of-Four gathered for supper in the lobby. I made my exotic request and MeeMee led us into the city on-foot. We were off to experience a different kind of meal. Of necessity, this population's tablefare is based upon a famine mentality; ANY edible source of protein is food. Likewise, chinese cooking assumes all ingredients are cut into bits to conserve cooking fuel. Nothing is wasted.
We walked about two miles amidst stares from those busily closing their day of labor. Entering the restaurant, I watched that night's victims slithering on display and attracting hungry customers. MeeMee showed us how to pseudo-sterilize our plate, bowl and chopsticks with steaming hot tea, and then dispensed the Kleenex she brought; the restaurants serving locals don't offer napkins. The chinese beer was only served in cold one liter bottles, so John and I began 'cooling down'; Mee Mee and Kim were shy about drinking because women don't drink in China. Maybe the beer helped John and I eat what we ordered ? The women hardly ate.
But let me describe this multi-faceted meal later...
About our first night's feast in Guangzhou, John and I tried everything available; food can be an adventure too. The night's victims slithering in the restaurant window were black snakes. Snake flesh has a unique texture and it's delicious. We also ordered chicken. The chickens of China are a sorry lot: small and scrawny with no fat nor flavor. Then came braised leg of dog and it was good, but needed tenderizing, and cat meat stewed with fresh steamed vegetables, but it was somewhat stringy, and then the boiled freshwater pond snails were black, rubbery, and tasted like mud. The ribs and chops of chinese fox had a very gamey flavor, but it was surprisingly tender. The most expensive dish though was also the most immemorably delightful, braised turtle with green vegetables -- wonderful !!
John and I ate with gusto after a liter each of cold chinese beer. Kim only ate rice, looked ill and disgusted, and finally bummed a cigarette off the waiter (much to his horror) and wobbled outside to smoke. Mee Mee tried everything, but only once. All in all, the tablefare of China is hardly edible by western standards; make sure everything is well-cooked, don't eat anything raw, drink lots of steaming hot tea or bottled booze, and 'don't drink the water'. Do this and you won't get sick.
We closed the restaurant around 11:00. Outside, there was a rejuvenating sea-breeze wafting through the streets. It was 80 degrees and nearly pitch black except for an occasional street lamp or a household's glassless window. The deeply shadowed, aged and unkempt buildings reminded me of unfriendly parts of Los Angeles. But the entire populace was out with us in the evening too. Quietly, I became aware of something different and unexpected; something that would never happen again in urban America, but still existed here.
The people were relaxed and happy and no longer venomously glaring at us, (as opposed to their daytime persona). Families strolled the streets as teenagers rode their bikes. Fathers displayed their adorable infant sons with enormous pride (never daughters), while healthy young adults conservatively courted one another at arms length. Senior citizens sat afront their modest homes, enjoying the cooler air and talking about health, family affairs, and politics. I guess the evening's sea-breeze and the surrealistic anonymity of darkness sets their souls free. No one was alone and no one was afraid of another. I felt a subtle but joyous sense of community grace, harmony and contentment, and took comfort in knowing that evenings like these have been a part of Guangzhou's history for centuries.
It is this ancient yet timeless quality of Guangzhou that is special. This culture has evolved and stabilized over millennia and rapid changes have only started during recent decades. This subtle insight into China has been invaluable; I understand my roots just alittle better for having visited Guangzhou.
I Remember When ... a most innocent child joyously demanded a glass of 'pink lemonade'.
[ author's aside -- Some may find this revived remembrance abit disconcerting, but it is true and real, if not piercingly jarring. Continue if you dare. earlj ]
During the summer of 1979, I worked weekends from 6PM Friday straight through 6PM Sunday at a special home for very special children. My companion co-worker was my girlfriend Karen (Bernoulli-the-hamster's other parent). This was how we spent our weekends together and these were intense days to test anyone's compassion.
Superficially, this home was just a large modern house in a pricey suburb of San Diego (Mira Mesa), but it was all-the-world to those inside. Its specialness was its children -- seven innocent and profoundly/severely retarded teenagers and young adults. The three girls and four boys needed a relief set of pseudo-Mom&Dads during the weekends, so their full-time pseudo-Mom&Dads could have time off. Karen and I had a weekend family to care for and love.
When I started working here though, I was not prepared. Every hour something big happened. And it was always something threatening, hilarious, disgusting, unthinkable, horribly disturbing, or deeply touching. I was continuously rocked&shocked by the crippled nature of life without a sense of self-preservation. It was tough, and we didn't last long.
But one experience remains pleasantly remembered: There was this fellow and his 'pink lemonade'. I'll call him Joe. Joe had a little plastic football that was always held in the crock of his right arm against his chest. He was obsessed with possessing it. You could never take it from him without ensuing self-abuse. He also liked 'pink lemonade' with equal passion.
When Joe lived with his mother, he became conditioned to getting his way by abusing himself, much to Mom's horror. She reinforced this behavior by quickly 'giving in' to quell further self-abuse. Joe would repeatedly and viciously pommel his face with his right fist in-order to induce his mother's compliance -- usually a demand for 'pink lemonade'. Joe's face was heavily scarred and structurally deformed, ample evidence of this behavior's severity.
The final long-sought solution was ingenious. They conditioned Joe into clutching a little plastic football (his favorite toy), in such a way that precludes self-abuse. When Joe's holding his football, he can't pound his face. How they did this, I don't know. But I'm certain it wasn't easy.
While we were Mom&Dad, Joe would come to us every-so-often, and mutter 'pink lemonade' with an enthusiastic lilt. If he was behaving, we'd pour him a glass. If he was bad, we tug-a-war'd with his football. No matter what happened though, we could never react to any self-effacing (a bad pun, I know) self-abuse. Joe will eventually forego face-pommeling, and then he'll be conditioned off his football.
To most, this isn't an amusing tale. Rather, it's a harsh story from an unknowable existence. To those with relevant experience though, this is a rare case of triumphant conquest. Their progress against disadvantage seems miniscule at our consciousness-of-reality. To them though, each pleasure is ecstasy, each desire is consuming, and there is little awareness of fear.
This thought emerged for no particular reason, and is offered for no particular benefit.
For the context of this NOTE:
'things'
defined as anything desired: ie. personal relationship(s) and/or improvements therewith, thoughts, values, traits, ideas, material goods, goals, and anything else subjectively positive.
Some 'things' are For-the-future.
Some 'things' are Just-for-today.
Other 'things' are From-yesterday-and-continued-into-today.
The purposes of 'things' we've choosen for ourselves fit into these categories and many others. We have intentions with, and effects from these 'things':
in planning for a better tomorrow (For-the-future);
in enjoying the present (Just-for-today);
in maintaining structure and continuity (From-yesterday-and- continued-into-today).
What's the worth of knowing this ?
Nothing -- this is non-sensical whimsey Just-for-today.
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