How could I say no to that? Plus, the flame is some kind of insane butane (that changes from blue to red over three seconds) or something that just incinerates everything that I have tried to light with it so far. Awesome.Backtracking a bit to earlier in the day, Indy and I had an excellent conversation detailing our opinions of sexual openness that spanned quite a bit of time. I'll not reveal his details here, but I have no problem admitting that ultimately I felt like I was a bit of a bohemian. Especially after reading some of my older journal entries, which (surprise, surprise) dealt with my opinions on sexual openness, often mirroring his current opinions. It seems a little amazing that one can change so much in such a relatively short time, and I did kind of wonder if I was not so much 'enlightened' as 'trashy' about sex these days. I didn't feel trashy, of course, I know that he didn't mean it like that either - but I wonder at how very hedonistic it all is these days. Do we just try everything until we hit some kind of deeply programmed limit? Or do we have to draw those limitations for ourselves, otherwise we simply have no boundaries at all? Probably a moot point as we will both likely be as celibate as monks for the next nine months. And even if we weren't, these Chinese ladies seem much closer to his own views than mine. Now I worry that I might send a tiny naked lady fleeing from my bedroom, scarred forever.
Skipping a little farther back to last Saturday, we had the pleasure of celebrating the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival (no longer celebrated in mid-autumn for the good of the People) in our own way. My plans for the evening consisted of buying a great deal of alcohol and some crummy discount moon-cakes, hoofing it to a roof somewhere on campus, and getting wasted on grain alcohol while staring up at the moon. Alas, it came to naught. We ended up getting shanghaied by a student who has helped me out enough that I am indebted to him although I don't really like him. Apparently his friends had all abandoned him to go snog with their girlfriends or see their families in Xuchang, and so we got roped into dinner and admiring the moon with him. This was decidedly dull, although most native Chinese speakers are able to feed us much better than we can feed ourselves, so at least dinner was enjoyable and different. However, once we got home the drinking was allowed to start in earnest, which we did to the accompaniment of a bootleg pornography DVD that I had purchased earlier in the day called 'American Female Jail'. The film turned out to be somewhat misleading, in that it was actually shot in the 70s, in Brazil, and was shot in Italian. The English dub wasn't bad, but it unfortunately ran at the same time as the much louder Chinese dub. This made understanding what little plot existed quite difficult, although the drinking helped. Before we had made it more than twenty minutes into this experience, there was a knock on my door. Our only neighbor in our section of the building had stopped by, and he had brought two bottles of bai jiu. Now, as a little explanation here, the first week that I had lived in this building I didn't have a key for the front security door for our section. Every time I wanted to come in, I had to call all the apartments until somebody answered, and bumblingly explain in Chinese that 'I ams the American teacher what lives on number one floor, and I has had no door-thing yet froms mine university' and then they would buzz me in. To say thanks once I finally had my own key, I bought them a bunch of moon cakes. Earlier the night of the Festival, we had also stopped by to essentially pawn off the extra moon cakes that we had no intention of eating after we had split from the annoying lonely student. I guess all this made some kind of impression, because now we were getting the full hospitality treatment from the father of the family. He had even brought a sack of salted beef! Because Americans like beef so much. However, as we had no glasses aside from the normal-sized juice cups provided to us by the university, one can imagine our terror as our neighbor jovially whipped out a bottle of grain alcohol and started pouring us full glasses of the stuff. If anyone has ever drank with me in the States, you know that bai jiu has been an ordeal that I inflict on my friends with great relish, being generally considered to be the worst tasting alcohol known to civilized man, and usually between 50-60% alcohol to boot. It is usually made of sorghum, millet, and peas. As soon as he was done pouring, we toasted. Over the next hour and half, we finished the bottle and had actually learned quite a bit about each other. His name mysteriously translated as literally The King of Germany, and he came from Shandong province. He had a PhD in Agriculture, and had arrived at this university only about a month before I had. He left with us fairly drunk and with a whole extra bottle of bai jiu for ourselves. This bai jiu, I admit, was actually far superior in taste to the sort of stuff that I buy in the States for the Man-Test factor. But as anyone who has had bai jiu inflicted on them knows, the taste somehow stays with you for hours and hours after you stop drinking, even if you only have one shot. Every burp especially will be total memory recall of that particular flavor. Afterwards, Indy and I made a vblog that I have yet to actually watch for myself. I hear there are sound problems, and I am not surprised.
Before that, I have just a few incidents that will stick in my memory. The first (and second) time using my newly-purchased water card that allowed me to fill a three liter jug at a special purified water station outside my apartment. There are two buttons on this station, a big green button, and a big red button. Twice, I have stood at that station with my jug overflowing, water pouring out everywhere all over the sidewalk and frantically pounding that red button, while the machine played 'The Blue Danube' at a mockingly increasing pace. Those two have been some of the most surreal Chinese moments that I have had. Walking through the grocery store and hearing an incredibly long, drawn out piano version of 'Greensleeves' while I look at an 80 yuan bottle of A1 Steak Sauce.
I thought I had a few more, but I am almost through with my bottle of wine and my pipe of tobacco, and the Tuvan throat singing I am listening to is overwhelming my capacity for recollection. Add to my lifetime list of things to accomplish, go to Tuva and listen to an actual performance of this incredible dual-pitch singing. Perhaps the Trans-Siberian trip being planned could divert to Tuva? This is now unavoidable.
I would say zai jian, but au revoir sounds so much more appropriate. Au revoir, dear readers, and bayartai, saikhan amraarai.
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