Reflechins

Wow, some people are sensitive. To think I’m racist? That’s silly. Lighten up. Think of how we learn English in school. Ridicule. People correcting us. Laughing at our mistakes, as we twist and warp the language, testing the limits, experimenting, recombining grammar and giving birth to new slang and new conventions. Language is alive, and constantly evolving. This broken English stuff is like the platypus. Laugh now while you can – eventually, it will be gone. And then I’ll move to the last vestige of broken English – Africa. I guess I should start getting my shots now.

And don’t go feeling sorry for the restaurant whose menu I blogged. They don’t do it for foreigners, you ninny – they do it to look like a western restaurant. Having English boosts their image just as serving Sweet and Sour Pork makes Panda Express Chinese-ish even though I couldn’t get my wife to eat there if I offered her a prize. Then again, meals at our house are like the first few minutes of “Eat Drink Man Woman.”

I think they could have improved their Western image mightily by installing a sit-down toilet. But that’s just me. Oh, and for the record? Our custom of including complimentary toilet paper in every stall? Might want to implement that one as well. But good effort on the menu. At least the food was kick ass.

Also for the record, I had the “Sheep Leg New Zealand” and some form of “Staghssd Noodle.” A bunch of us shared steaks, too. It was quite good. My wife got “Carbon Burns the Black Bowel.” Yes, it was just as gross as it sounds.

The restaurant was called “Edinburgh Western Chinese Restaurant.” It’s in Foshan, which is in the south of China. Famous for kung fu and now, for this.

I think this is what the real Quai Chang Kane would look like by now. In the picture above that, a great example of China’s ethnic diversity: one of the muslim minority, from West China, probably near the border with Afghanistan. They’re Chinese, and speak Mandarin, albeit with a heavy accent, as well as their own tongue, and here in the South they stick out almost as much as me. Friendly, and those skewers of yellow meat were tasty.

Wife bought some fireworks to set off in the crowded alley streets. I didn’t know they were military grade mortars. One type launched a sky detonation that activated car alarms all around us. And the ones shown sprayed fire that engulfed the clothes hanging to dry two stories above. I was sure we were all going to jail. Also, they have those little snaps that look like paper sperm and come in sandpaper. You know what I’m talking about? Throw them on the ground and they pop? Well, here they’re about ten times more powerful that in America. I tried snapping one in my fingers, and couldn’t feel my hand for an hour. Caveat Emptor.

The Guangzhou (Canton) subway is new and awfully modern. Instead of a ticket, one-time trips are encoded onto these coins which you hold against sensors at the turnstiles. Looks like Hong Kong has rubbed off on its neighbors.

This girl lives in my in-laws’ neighborhood. I’m not sure what her name is because everyone calls her “SohMui.” That basically means “crazy girl.” She had a fever when she was a baby that caused brain damage. As modern as life is here for some, it’s still painfully backward for others. I don’t think she goes to school, and I never see anyone interact with her besides shooing her away. I always talk to her when I get a chance. I hope her life improves.

I almost got arrested for taking this picture. I saw these people gathered around the scene of an accident, held my hand out of the moving car, and took a few snaps. Here in the South, they take rubbernecking to a new high. A cop, standing on the corner, saw me shooting and followed. Since my driver had slowed to a crawl to take in the scene, the cop was able to pull us over ON FOOT. He then asked me in Mandarin what the hell I was doing. My driver immediately said I was a reporter, which made me groan. I was sure I was going down. Then, another, uninvolved rubbernecker on a cell phone magically appeared at my passenger-side window, peered in the car, and translated loudly into Cantonese. This was almost as disconcerting as the “Sister Christian and Firecrackers” scene in “Boogie Nights.” Luckily, after a few minutes, he waved me on. This is just the last in a long series of run-ins with cops in developing nations. One of these days my luck is going to run out and one of you will be getting a collect call from Bogota. You’d better accept.

Father-in-law’s kung fu student’s carefully cultivated mole-hair. I’ve written about this before. It never ceases to fascinate me. Some people grow these strays out in long, loving, chaotic strands, convinced that they are good luck. If they knew anything about how moles work, perhaps they’d think differently. How do you say “Melanocytes” in Chinese? Call me shallow, but it takes me a while to see past this in a person. It’s just so very strikingly different than my native culture. The only thing that would be more distracting would be long combed nose-hair rustling with each breath. Let’s move on.

These people appeared to be living in a phone kiosk directly outside an amusement park in Canton. I didn’t expect to see squatters here, nor would I at Disneyland. Maybe at Knotts Berry Farm.

Wife’s friend Betty. She looks like a Chinese Rachel Ray. A great smile, and a great girl, stuck in the Chinese working class, toiling for perhaps a hundred fifty US dollars a month. Her friends are always trying to set her up with richer older men, but bless her heart, she’s holding out for real chemistry. If you’re cool, I may just introduce you.

An eye-level fan blowing kitchen air, and grease, from a house into the street. They’ve taken the time to repair the thing repeatedly with tape, but apparently cleaning it is out of the question. All of the piracy here and nobody thought to steal Formula 409?

My son at a New Year’s event at a mall. You can see how many people are looking at him. Eurasians are a novelty here, and people say how cute he is. (Can’t argue with that.) But I wonder just how he and his sister will be treated when they go to school here. I’m sure Cantonese has some creative ways to say “half-breed” and “mutt,” but thankfully, my kids don’t know these yet.

I’ve told you all before how superstitious China is. This is a laminated cheat sheet my wife’s um, friend, uses to play the lottery. She, I mean He or She pours over it for hours, calculating things based on the zodiac and day of the week, month, year, and whether or not your mole-hair hangs left or right.

The zodiac of animals is listed across the top. These are simplified characters, but I could read enough to bust her when she tried to tell me she was “paying the bills.” In fact, I’m surprised most Chinese bills don’t come with an option to go “double or nothing.”

Father-in-law’s student, Goon, helped us with the kids. Was with Goon at the gym when a guy was telling me about the old days.

guy: “Yeah in jr. high he was the fastest boy in school.”
me: “boy?”
guy: “Wait a minute, are you a boy or a girl?”
Goon: “girl.”
guy: “hunh. really?”

I just stood there and blinked for about five minutes. I still don’t know all there is to know about the crying game.