Another

It’s been ages since I’ve done a proper post about the China experience. I think I’m due for a quick dissertation on…well I’m not sure on what I’m just gonna write bout this, that, all of the above, and just see what happens. Let us start with the surveillance issue as of late; a problem revealing itself immensely in the wake of the new mayor (at least I think it’s a new mayor, that’s the issue you deal with having a Chinese person with - let’s say decent because I’m being nice - English describe what’s happening in the world o’ China). The Big Brother dilemma was already becoming prevalent enough with the witch hunt against the only decent foreign band (R.I.P.), but a new law goes against street vendors; an effort hoping to modernize the aesthetic look of Dalian since this is a tourist city, and we all know how much the Chinese love their ‘communist’ commercialism. Now my facts on the subject are a bit shaky, because again I’m getting my information through a Chinese person and can’t look up the news myself because the Chinese government is ‘smooth’ (take notes, NSA!). Street vendors are no longer allowed to sell any goods on the streets, whereas before there were numerous stands for fruits, vegetables, cheap meals, garbage accessories, etc. These are honest people trying to make a living and they sold decent stuff for quite a bargain. You can buy a decent meal on the street for a dollar fifty USD and that’s not half bad when you haven’t the time to cook nor want anymore of that Mcdonalds or the like. There are still farmers markets, and plenty of people go on selling they goods on the street since ain’t nobody be giving a single fuck what the law has to say- this is China after all -  though tis odd how it has dramatically shaped the landscape around my house. I previously had to walk on the road instead of sidewalk near my house because it was too crammed with street vendors. This proved tiresome, always is a pain all these crowds around anywhere you find yourself walking, yet it breathed a certain life into Dalian that you can’t find back in the states. The street I live once possessed a kind of flavor, peculiar taste, a reminder I was in China and not some Western city, and now that feeling is gone walking down these empty streets, still packed with more people than wanted for one who lives the solitary life, though a feel an indescribable emptiness without those merchants shouting this way and that. Yesterday, I passed by the shoe tailor and saw two police officers talking to him, certainly the cops in charge of cracking down on street vendors since most police here just chain smoke cigarettes at headquarters and can't be fucked doing any real work (note: no complaints about the majority of policefolk here, rather they do nothing than be an angry prick on a power trip). Today, I passed the tailor again and his shack was gone and still he sat on the sidewalk with his leathers and wears, ready for another day. There was a frown, hiding but there, perhaps because he knew when they came back it would be over for him...already warned, and hopefully for his well-being, already forgotten. 

 I went to the zoo the other day with my girlfriend because I was given a Saturday off for dragon boat festival and normally I don’t have weekends off which are conveniently the days she has off (same as everybody else, but that’s the price you pay working at a training school and working a whole 16 hours a week). I went in with low expectations since watching animals in captivity never interested me much, but for what it was worth, the time was well spent observing these creatures a many. The Thailand elephant show was especially interesting

The best part of the show was when they called for volunteers and three people came down. The elephant grasped the women’s boobs and when it got to the Chinese man, it grazed his cock, stopped, continued the touching, stopped, once more, walk on, end of show, have a good night and watch your step. The man was too far away for me to see his reaction, but I am sure he was shitting his pants, as any man would a giant beast such as that huge paw up and down that fragile shaft of yours. The monkey exhibit also caught my interest since there was such a variety of the furry creatures:

Finally, I wanted to have a spiritual connection with my brothers and sisters (the pandas: my Chinese spirit animal; as opposed to my Western kin: the snow owl). I experienced the same reality here as was the case at the Qingdao zoo; the pandas are fucking miserable in this contained environment and want nothing to do with it. Perhaps I just don’t know pandas well enough. After all, I’ve never had a good chat with a panda; however, a particular certainty tells me these majestic prophets hate this fucking captivity and wish to be free. Does my heart wrong, but hey, I took pictures:

                I miss a decent beer, lease a mildly good beer that doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg to get drunk on. I used to think American macrobrews were utter shit (because they are), but living here long enough has made me enjoy the tastes of foul concoctions such as Budweiser, Coors, Pabst, etc. Drink a 6-pack of Snow beer in one sitting, and follow it up with a nice cold Budweiser…you’ll see the magnificent difference. I remember being thrilled at first how cheap beer is in China, and a month later I had to accept the awful nature of their piss water. I have actually come to conclusion they make snow beer by drinking an American beer and then urinating into a can. Try a TsingTao (yes it’s disgusting, but its fair game here), and then imagine a beer that somehow tastes even worse than that. You will really need some vivid imagination to understand what Snow beer is like until you try it. In TsingTao’s defence, I went to their brewery and it was super cool plus the ‘raw beer’ they had there was quite delicious

I have been ordering IPAs off the Chinese version of Amazon, and it does the trick, but I can’t be fucked buying beer on the internet that often. I even paid out the ass (around 10 USD) for a single bottle of Dogfish Head 90 minute Imperial IPA while in Beijing…because it’s really just that good

The Chinese version of liquor, Bahjiu, is even worse. Averaging at 104 proof and tasting of car oil (haven’t tried car oil but honestly it may go down smoother), Bahjiu is the foulest shit on earth. It’ll get yah drunk, and you’ll be having a shit time in no time. This stuff is a last resort when I want to get plastered and am too cheap to buy a bottle of Jose Cuervo. I certainly become intoxicated in a moment’s notice, but is it really worth it? Not in the least.

               

                My favorite class at my kindergarten graduates next week

These kids were the only decent part of that kindergarten; the other three classes I have there are a pain in my arse but that may also be because those kids are between 2-4 and the teaching assistants do fuck all in helping a brother out. Weird to think I have been here 10 months now, and in 2 months I will be teaching at Dongcai University of Finance of Economics. I was informed the other day I will have a few graduate courses I will be teaching and this truly blew my mind. Just 2 years ago, I was sitting in a classroom being taught Literature and now I will be getting paid well to teach Chinese graduate students American Literature and writing. I still remember the summer following my graduation; drowning in existential angst of what the future will bring a student of Literature. Perhaps if I was a better student, there would be greater opportunities for me, but I spent that summer washing dishes on minimum wage and doing anything that would get me high and forget about the foreboding doom. I recall driving with Dr. Hobby to the mountains with a classmate and we discussed with him where to go from here. He had told us our degrees were meaningless because the true key to success was our personalities and how right he was. I spent 4 years in college pursuing something that interested me, and I am still going after a life that is entertaining for me rather than some boring desk job where the hours brood me by as I contemplate which meat to consume that evening for dinner. Things have worked out, least for now. Today I saw a Chinese fellow wearing a Beckett tee that read my favorite quote by the master: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”