I am getting slower with these posts. Flang. It's not coz there's nothing happening. There is a-plenty a-happening! No, the reason for my reduced drivel-output is quite simple... I am busy trying to learn how to teach English! I have 16 units of our TEFL course due in four weeks, as well as two hour-and-a-half lessons to plan per week (which are then deployed over 12 periods of 45-minutes each... confused yet? I thought so), as well as six hours of Chinese classes to attend with homework. Added to this, I have to teach English in a manner which results in improved English for our kiddies. So I have to work my butt off, or else there will be trouble... the kind of trouble which sounds like “shmunemployed” and “schmeeportation” (joke stolen directly from Knocked Up, an awesome movie, I'd give it three thumbs up if I could. Give me a few more years in China and having three thumbs will be the least of my worries, I'm sure).
Anyhow not much happening, except for a certain... temptation. Let me start from the beginning...
It was a dark and stormy night. Wait, am I missing punctuation? It was a dark, and stormy, night. No that's not it. It's a dark and stormy night. Wrong tense. %#*%$*. Maybe I don't need the article? It was a dark, stormy night. Not bad, but not good either. It was a darkening night with storminess nearby. Oh for &%#*%'s sake. The night was darkie and stormy. Wait that sounds like Paul Holmes. I HATE THE STOOPID *%#%&*$ ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Can you believe I'm an English teacher??
Anyhow, it was raining, and Lindsay and I were standing outside of Carrefour, and it was, like, 8:00 or something. At night. Capiche? We had at least two buckets of stuff. Literally. We needed the buckets for the apartments. We were also encumbered with at least four supermarket bags filled with lead bricks. Lindsay was standing under the umbrella (very chivalrous of me, I know) while I stood out in the traffic trying to wave down a taxi. Please note that when I say that I stood out in the traffic, I am not meaning figuratively, like I'm standing nearby from the safety of the sidewalk or something, I mean I am standing in the middle of the flang-dang road, with traffic going either side of me, trying to wave down a flang-dang taxi which will not get stolen by someone else. It is seriously cutthroat. You slow, you lose, homie.
Taxi turns up. Okay, here we go! I run. 8 metres. 5 metres. 3 metres. 1 metr – an umbrella flies out in front of me and cuts me short. “*%#%&*$%!” yells the young lady who gets to the taxi before I do. She does not speak English, of course – but I, for one, understand asterisk-percent-hash-percent-ampersand perfectly well. The taxi is hers. If I tried to negotiate, she would not be going home with her umbrella, because she would put it in a place where it could not be retrieved, and I would not be able to sit down until it is removed.
“Oh ampersand-exclamation-asterisk!” I say to Lindsay. She, too, speaks this language.
“Well,” she says meekly, “we could always go home on a bicycooter?”
And this one sentence stops me dead in my tracks.
Look at it. Sleek. Smart. Sexy. Mine. Well, maybe, if I buy it, anyhow. But I mean, seriously, look at it. It has a basket. Oooo. For carrying stuff. It has a tray on the back. For carrying more stuff. Or for carrying Lindsay... or for carrying Lindsay who's carrying stuff. Awesome. It has an electric motor, so no CO2 emissions to make Chengdu hotter than it already is, which is technically “hotter than hell” (but getting better). Also no pollution, so visibility in Chengdu won't be reduced to 15 feet (from it's current 20) due to me. And it has pedals, in case the batteries explode (which is fine, unless the batteries explode all over your legs, in which case the pedals might be a tad useless).
Needless to say, I want one.
Back to our dilemma. “Hmm,” I say in reply to Lindsay, doing my best to remain calm, “do you reckon?” OF COURSE SHE RECKONS! says the little voice inside of me which has resulted in so, so much trouble.
“Yeah, we could,” she says.
“Well, those ones over there are pretty cheap - ” I WANNA BYCICOTOOR - “but we should really talk to someone who knows something about - ” I WANNA *%#&%*% BYCICOOOTOR!!! - “- them.”
“Yes, that's what I said before,” says Lindsay, a common refrain of hers which is consistently true, I will concede. Geez, where the heck did that sentence come from?? It's like I actually can, like, speak English or something.
“Sigh,” I say. “Okay, but we should wait a bit longer for a taxi. If one doesn't turn up, bicycooter it is.” Unfortunately, if I were to repeat here what my little voice said at this point, it's quite likely that a) I would get into a lot of trouble – I'm talking what-does-this-little-red-button-do kinda trouble; and b) Worldjournals would drop my account like a radioactive hot potato (which is an obscure reference to the joke I made in a), which is also an obscure, and remarkably unfunny, joke. I should not write this blog at 1:30 in the morning, please accept my apologies folks).
Five minutes later, and three taxis have driven past. All occupied. The rain has not stopped. This is starting to get a little thin.
I turn to Lindsay. “Bicycooter?”
She nods.
And just then (!!!) an empty taxi turns up. Just like that. I look around. There is no competition. It's all ours. The taxi driver, who looks like a friendly guy, smiles at me and waves. Who me? Yes you. Couldn't be! Please, my taxi is warm and dry, and you look like you need warmth and dryth (stoopid English language). By the way, this mental telepathy is not actually occurring, but needless to say, I can spot a sign a mile away. No bicycooter for us tonight. It's too dang wet anyhow, what the flang were we thinking?
Pies out.
P.s. I'll provide some real content when something actually happens. Stay tuned.
Pies menu of the day:
Ah, yes, there's nothing like a tasty milkshake from (name of coffee shop censored) when the day is hot. Hmm, let's see... would you like a strawberry milkshake, little boy? No? How about a choclate one? Don't like choclate milkshake either? Well, that is too bad, but I think I know what you like... yeeesss, you want a minced pork milkshake don't you? Now that's a good boy. Maybe with some fava beans and a nice Chianti, mmmnUmNUMs.
Ok, I thought Wikipedia was blocked in China. What a numbskull! Little did I realise that all I had to do was go up and order my favourite minced pork milkshake and a side order of Wikipedia, and hey presto! Nourishing AND intellectually stimulating. This place rocks.
