N-A-P

I took a nap today. Hardly ever do that.

I had two visitors for 7 of the past 8 days, one Chinese, one American. Their eating and social requirements are on entirely opposite ends of the cultural spectrum, pulling me to my limits. I am exhausted.

Add to that a 5 a.m. wake-up call, clouds and drizzling rain, and the most boring and tedious work assignment I’ve ever had. It was a perfect formula for inducing a long, hard nap.

I asked Mimi, “Do you wanna take a nap?” She grabbed her bone, ran into the bedroom, and jumped on the bed, arriving several minutes before I did myself. Smarty-pants dog.

Dogs are great nap buddies. Even if they just took a nap, they are ready for another one, helping to fulfill their need for 16-hours a day of sleep.

I lay on the bed and soon heard myself breathing heavily. Not full-blown snoring. Allergies.

I heard the car horns blaring, the rain hitting the windows, the electric drill of the interior decorators across the way.

My brain began pulling random subconscious thoughts, splicing them together into a story that never really happened, creating a bizarre scenario, a “dream.” I woke to bring an end to the nonsensical story, but dared not move. It felt so good to be an unmoving zombie for 45 minutes, listening to the sounds of daily life I was temporarily detached from, warmed by the white fuzzy footrest called Mimi.

A nap. Such a simple pleasure in life.

Things You Can Make with Grass

What are those things on the right of the photo, at about the guy's knee level?

Handmade merchandise. Bugs made of grass. Love the entrepreneurial spirit here.

And yes, I had to look up the spelling of entrepreneurial.

Discrimination

I am going on a boat trip in a few weeks, which necessitated a recent trip to a travel agency.

The guy quoted me the price. Then he corrected himself and amended the price upwardly. He said because I am a foreigner, the price is higher by a hefty $150. I asked him why. Is the air I breathe more costly? Are they going to serve me better food? Does my bed on the boat take up more space than it does for a Chinese person? Of course not.

I asked if Japanese and Korean tourists taking the boat also had to pay this surcharge. Because I know that at other places where ticket price discrimination takes place, it is enough just to LOOK Chinese. This means that ticket discrimination is enforced based on the fact that I am white. It is racial discrimination.

The tourist agent assured me that Japanese and Koreans also had a surcharge. (Later he admitted that different nationalities had different amounts of surcharge. I know that Americans get the highest surcharge.)

I didn’t let this rest. The tour agent said that Americans make more money than Chinese, so we can afford to pay more. Excuse me? I see Chinese driving BMW’s and toting Louis Vuitton bags everyday while I ride a bike and carry a backpack. “If that’s what they think, then why don’t the boat companies just ask to see our bank books when we get on board?” I asked. Because that would be way more fair than assuming that all Americans are rich.

Finally, the agent got to the heart of the matter. He said, “The boat company takes you to certain shopping areas for shore excursions, and they get kick-backs, or commissions, from the merchants. The boat companies get almost no money from foreigners when they do this. The Chinese buy lots of gifts, but foreigners are more frugal.”

Maybe if foreigners didn’t have to pay $150 surcharge (after already having paid $1500 for airfare to get to China in the first place) they would have money to spend at the vendor shops.

My Train Trip

A couple of weeks ago I went on a train trip towards the interior of this country. I rode the train. My destination was one of the five wildly famous mountains in this country.

In the highly-developed area of this country where I live, there are really fast trains.

This trip, I did not take a fast train. I took the old, slower trains. They are dirty, the brakes screech, and they are somewhat crowded. They are fun in a quaint kind of way. Strangers talk to you on these kind of trains. They remind me of my life in this country ten years ago.

I rode the slow train because that was the only option. The fast trains only run near the big cities.

Saturday was the day to climb the mountain. But I woke up Saturday morning with a searing migraine headache. Not only did I NOT climb the mountain (nor even take the cable car), I stayed in bed and didn't see a blessed thing.

Twenty hours on the train, and the only photo I got was taken on Friday night at the bottom of the mountain. (That's not even the real mountain in the background...that's just a foothill.) I hate it when that happens.