For some reason I couldn't sleep past 5.30 this morning, so I'm sipping on Emergen-C, listening to great music and of course, pondering on life. The city lurks outside my window, looking cold and forlorn on this cloudy morning. Yesterday was also cold and the light drizzle turned into a soaking and chilling rain in which I had the pleasure of walking home in.
After an exhaustive search for jade, and wandering around Victory Plaza for hours I gave into the fact that I will never understand or like shopping at that market. Its a labyrinth of stalls, each one packed with clothes, shoes, belts, suitcases, even stuffed animals...and the merchandise looks all the same after a while. I mentioned before how incredibly overwhelming shopping is for me, but add in me trying to guide someone else around and you'll get a slightly less polite, more apt for cursing Ann. I'm not proud of my reactions. I blame VP for bringing out the worst in me. We walked around trying to find jade souvenirs, or even just little statues to no avail. I was of no use, and most of the time we wandered around, me sweating in the airless underground floors looking wide eyed at other shoppers, hoping they'd guess what I needed and just give it to me.
Yes I asked for help, and everyone pointed me in a vague direction followed by rapid-fire Chinese that I couldn't hope to understand. You'd think I'd be used to that by now. Actually when people speak any Chinese to me now, I cringe less and can normally pick out a thread of the conversation. Give me another 6 months and I think I'd be able to have a passable conversation!
(That's not an actual request. If I was slotted to stay another 6 months, I think drastic measures would be in order...like getting a Chinese character tattoo and wearing pantyhose all the time...which is the worst possible scenario I can think of)
On Saturday, we had the joy of eating lunch at a couples apartment. Angelica and Zilton were guests at Shangri-La when I was in Nishimura and they were incredibly friendly and sweet. At one point they invited us all to eat with them, and they followed through by having us over for a wonderful home cooked meal, which we happily accepted. We took a taxi out to the area were they live, which was upscale and oh so quiet! No construction! Hardly any traffic...it was bliss.
She made chicken, a fresh salad (without bitter greens!) homemade mashed potatoes, and followed up with pumpkin pie, brownies and ice cream. I admit my eyes watered a little more than normal. It felt like we were so close to home, and miles away from China. Their apartment was spacious and homey, and we felt so welcomed and appreciated. They served us like family, talked with us about our experience here, and insisted that we leave our information so we could stay in touch. How sweet to have people like this, to welcome us so warmly and get a taste of home.
Home seems such a mythical place, a enfolding cloud of magic and love that no matter how dull, exciting, or even fraught with family drama...is a place to rest.
I'm sure I've built up the experience in my mind of how going home will be, and most likely my actual experience will be a lot less dramatic...but the image of my house getting closer and closer calms me, and makes the world take on a pleasant haze around it.
This week should be fairly busy as we're hosting the fisherman's exhibition, at full capacity, for three days. On Friday night I met a group of very cool Scottish fishermen and by the end we were swapping war stories and jokes. I expect to be pretty busy tonight, and mostly because the group is mainly foreigners. Hopefully we won't be overrun as the bar tends to be unprepared for crowds over 20. Yes...anything over 15 is a crowd. It's fun though, working there, and the uniform is relaxed enough to be comfortable. I have one confession to make, and I know this will change your opinion of me forever...in advance I apologize for dropping this on you unexpectedly but....I wear tights under my jean shorts, with my Chucks...tights like pantyhose tights...and....*cough* I don't hate it. Will I bring back this fashion statement to America?- Heck yea--I mean no way! That would be ridiculous. Right? I mean...gross. Pantyhose and jeans don't mix.
Its a requirement to wear black and white, but the type of clothing doesn't matter. I can't wear jeans, so I'm forced to used tights. This is my excuse/justification.
They are not comfy, nor do I enjoy wrestling to put them on...but as far as cool factor...*sigh*
What is happening to me??
Since I'm up, I might grab an early breakfast, and get a head start on my day. It's a good day for movies and blankets.
Have a great day, go forth and be happy!
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