Julia now has a blue passport. I am (therefore?) doing a greater share of the talking with the Zhongguoren. Today I successfully acquired two clay pots of yogurt from the yogurt lady at the university mess hall whilst my linguistic crutch was helping NaiNai heat up another heaping meal.
The trick is, don't snack, don’t ask for more, say you’re full halfway through the meal, and throw in a wo cheng si le (I am stretching to death).
Sunrise for the depressurized and bleary eyed.
The neighborhood has changed a bit.
And is changing still. Julia poses before a construction fence:
Late capitalism seems to be homogenizing when compared with the nascent Chinese version. Plastic wrapped foods may seem as varied as a ROYGBIV gradient but they all come from the same corn factory. Here, whole foods still predominate and bizarre veggies abound and amalgamate into an endless parade of dishes much like the language combines z’s x’s and q’s in fresh ways you haven’t thought of since childhood when letters were still fluid. They can play the packaged game too. China is called the factory floor of the world. But in these heady days, everyone is winging it. With no prescribed path, and no economy that prescribes medicine, law, or banking for assured success, variety rules. What strange things arise from the primeordeal pool.
A furnishing mall we happened upon:
Three levels, a 10 minute walk in either the X or Y direction to find the exterior wall. Endless aisles where perspective lines converge. Lamps, curtains, art, chairs, mats, whatever. Companies I’ve never heard of. Almost no customers but plenty of sales clerks. Who knows? Maybe it’ll work. Maybe the lease is so cheap and the manufacturing costs are so low it need only work as live-action advertising. Case in point.
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