I just combed my hair. I did it with a brand new comb that my hotel thinks is part of the essential equipment every guest needs. The other items include the following: 2 toothbrushes, 1 razor and shaving cream, a loofa, 2 packs of wooden matches, 1 sewing kit, and 2 plastic combs.
At any rate, I combed my hair with my brand new comb, lining up all of my individual hairs into neat little rows. I would follow this statement with a picture if I weren’t so vain (meaning, of course, that I look ridiculous with all of my individual hairs in neat little rows). To continue, I haven’t combed my hair since… well, I don’t know, actually, it’s been that long. I remember I started out with a comb when I was very young for two reasons: (1) that’s what was provided to me, and (2) that’s what my Dad did. It wasn’t until junior high, in an explosion of individualism, that I switched to a brush.
I had two. One was a bristle brush which I remember now as being very similar to a dog brush, though this was one branded by Vidal Sassoon. It left my hair poofy, and with all of my individual hairs in neat little rows. The second was a cheap plastic brush with only a couple dozen spines(?), tines(?), whatever… and the handle also served as a hairspray or water pump.
I loved this brush. I used it everyday with my Super Spike Jell to unsuccessfully create a wave up the right side of my head.
Eventually, though, I tired of all of this. My hair… my quaff… is unruly. I have wavey, thick hair that doesn’t take well to anything. It doesn;t lie down all cool and brooding like. It doesn’t curl up all joyful and bouncey like. For the most part, it just grows, and no amount of brushing or hairspraying can break its will to basically be the same busted ass haircut that I’ll have my entire life.
SO, sometime around high school I gave up the comb, the brush, the product, even hairdryers and I now generally drip dry, run my fingers through my hair, and then spend a few moments trying to convince myself that I look exactly the way I intend to.
What was I saying? Oh yes: that is, until tonight, when I used my free comb. Why is this interesting? It isn’t. It absolutely is NOT intersting; which illustrates just exactly how bored you can get after two weeks in China with nothing but work to do.
Crikey
I’m in the gym in a hotel in China and hear through my headphones the sound of the BBC Worldwide news anchor saying that Steve Irwin had died. And not by a crocodile like we all thought he would, but by a stingray barb to the chest.
Absoolutely shocked and saddened. I mean, it’s the Crocodile Hunter!
Crikey with god, Steve.
.: Interesting look at the War On Terror from the perspective of 30 years later. Did we win?
.: The US military successfully tested their missile defense system. This is something I worked on about 7 years ago while I was still at Lockheed Martin.
.: Tom apologizes to Brooke over his wacked Scientology doctrine. Though he does so without recanting his opinion. I wonder if being effectively fired has anything to do with this?
I’ll be honest with you Bryan, that smells like pure gasoline.
On my way to the factory today, the driver took me through some pretty rough areas. Not rough in terms of me ever feeling as if I was in danger. Rough in terms of it must be rough to live there. On the way back, he noticed me taking pictures, and somehow didn;t end up going back the same way we came. Somehow, we only went through relatively nice areas that, despite his best intentions, were really not all that nice.
That’s one of the things I like about coming to China. Seeing real people with real lives scratching out existence as best they can with no apparent complaints… but it’s also one of the main reasons I like to leave. The double amputee begging for food or money flat on his stomache for lack of a wheelchair was almost too much.
And what’s really crazy is how rich I am here… how rich any of us would be. I paid for some water and some chips that weren’t chips with a $100RMB note and got 99 back. That means my purchase that would have been what(?)… $3-5US came out to be roughly 12 cents.
…
12 CENTS!
My only hope is that the cashier was so distracted by how non-Chinese I am that she counted wrong. Even if she did, things here are still so, so cheap, and so so poor. It almost makes you wonder if communism is such a good idea after all.
Cultural Differences, Part II with your host, David “qwei lo” Kleeman
4. The number 4. It’s a semi-well known fact that “4” in Asia is a not an auspicious number. Where in America, many hotels do not have a 13th floor, in Asia it’s often the 4th… or so I thought. This hotel does have a 4th floor, but no 14th or 24th. Are those service floors? Why wouldn’t they just make all the floors sequential, anyway, and just skip those floors then? They’d still be accessible through the service elevator, after all. Or. is it even more unlucky to have numbers with 4’s in them? LIke “24” is the same as saying 2 times 4?
5. Sunglasses. Save for mine, there aren’t any. I find this strange as it is also a semi-well known fact that many Asian cultures feel that dark skin is indicative of poor people that work outdoors, and consequently pale skin is considered the most beautiful. That’s why so many Chinese people walk around with umbrellas during a sunny day. I would think sunglasses would add to the whole “hiding from the sun” thing. Apparently not.
6. Smoking. Yeah, everyone smokes here, but that’s not the odd thing. I’ve seen at least 3 people walking/biking/slootering around with un-lit cigarettes. Am I making something out of nothing, or is it a thing here that you suck on the end of unlit cigs… presumably getting at least a little bit of nicotine in you before lighting up. Is it a money issue? You need to squeeze every ounce of tar out of the things because they cost too much of your miniscule salary? Maybe it was just a coincidence and means nothing.
I’m digging the whole B&W; but not really thing I’ve just been recently experimenting with. A technique, I have to admit, that I totally stole from Alecia who does it better.
That’s me in the elevator of my hotel in Huizhou after lasting a solid hour walking outside before beginning to get moist where I shouldn’t be. The humidity. is seriously. killing me. This is why the US will never invade China.
During my wander I realized that I’m a rockstar in China. Everyone I passed unabashedly stared at me. Some said “Hi” or “Ni hao” while others just stared. Many turned around to look at me. Some pointed. I was a little disappointed that none took pictures that I could tell, but maybe next time.
I think it’s also important to note that I am, after a week, still the only westerner that I have seen here.
To continue, I made a 2 or 3 year old girl cry just by my very presence. I wasn’t looking particularly menacing or anything, but apparently the sight of a westerner is enough to make little Chinese girls cry. I can understand that. It isn’t until they get a little older that those tears of terror turn to tears of joy.
That was lame.
I was also approached by a half a dozen 14 year old girls that wanted to try out their English on me. I got “hi!” “hello!”, and then also “hi!” followed by a lot of giggling and looks over shoulders.
I know, I was thinking the same thing, I could have totally scored! [Ed. floorpie.net does not support nor condone sexual relationships with underage girls… though seriously, he totally coulda]
I’m not sure what the reason for being so reclusive is, but I will say that traveling alone makes me more introspective and sometimes damn near anti-social. Of course, the fact that no one here can speak my language (or, more correctly, I can’t speak the language of everyone here) is a big part of it, I’m sure.
This is why I have never been able to understand going on vacation by yourself. Is that even enjoyable? To me, a lot of the enjoyment of something comes from the sharing of it with others.
I’m not sure why I said that. Many of the things I do, I do as a loner… but seeing a new place(?) that I would rather do with s friend.
My goal for the day, walk to a temple without sweating to death (“That’s not possible!” you say. Hey buddy, easy for you to say, you’re not actually here. I think the humidity makes the “feels like” temperature somewhere around 207)
Cultural Differences with your host, David “qwei lo” Kleeman
1. Smoking in the elevator. Smoking is rampant in China, sure. But smoking in the elevator?! In this tiny box, with all of these other people, you bring fire and smoke?! Seriously?
2. Napkins, napkins everywhere. Somewhat akin to the Do Not Disturb sign which the Chinese don’t quite have a handle on yet, is the whole concept of the napkin. In China, it is customary to have a packet or box of what are effectively tissues floating around the table. As needed, you grab a tissue, wipe up whatever it is that’s bothering you, and then place it next to or under the rim of your plate. Easy, to the point, and efficient.
Someone, however, went to the US once after winning a game show, and saw that Americans put huge cloth napkins in their laps. So they have that here now, too (in some of the better restaurants). The thing is, they don’t really know what they’re for because the tissue box is still there. And these napkins? These ain’t no normal cloth napkins. These mother f’ers are silk… thick, beautiful silk that I would no less wipe my mouth with than I would floss with pearls. They can’t possibly really expect me to wipe up brown sauce with these things, it would be a sin.
3. Light switches. OK, this is minor but confusing. The light switches (in my hotel, at least) are set-up to be up is OFF and down is ON. I think they did that one on purpose.
Cultural Differences is brought to you by Durex brand condoms. ‘Cause besides the water and tea laid out as ammenities for you in Chinese hotels, condoms are on hand as well. Durex, the brand Communist China trusts most.
It’s official, I would not last a month if I lived here. Not from culture shock. Not from the food. Not from not knowing the language.
No, it would be from the mother fucking HEAT! Followed closely by the ass killing HUMIDITY!
I was sick of staying in the hotel watching HBO (one of 2 English-speaking channels) and wanted to get outside for a while. Truth be known, it was Miss Congeniality that drove me outside. It may have been MC 2, but one thing I do know for sure is that it snet me running, running into the wilds of China. I lasted about 30 minutes before I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m not sure if the locals were staring at me because I’m a westerner, or if it was because my blase expression of fitting in was drenched in sweat. I don’t think I’ve ever sweat from my ears before. How the hell do the locals survive out here? No one else seemed to be sweating profusely like I was, shirt sticking to my chest and back and drops of water raining all around me like I was a fat man at a Georgia BBQ.
What does that mean? Am I horribly out of shape, or is humidity something that your body really does adapt to after a while? I hope it’s the latter, because if it’s the former I’m not long for this world judging by my liquid output.
I wanted to explore a little more, walk out to a temple I can see from my 19th floor room, but there was just no conceivable way I would make it and still be, you know, alive.
And I used to live in Texas.
I honestly am still open to the possibility that there may be something seriously wrong with my health, because I have never been so instantly and completely uncomfortable in my own skin.
