Sino Travel Blog 2017: Hong Kong

This summer after graduating from high school I embarked upon a two-month trip across Hong Kong, Taiwan, and mainland China. I'd originally planned on posting on this now-rather dusty blog daily during the trip, but this proved to be an incredibly arduous task, impossible to fit between enjoying marvellously cheap food, snoozing, and posting on Instagram every day (with, yes, an official hashtag: #GVA2CHN2k17. We are millennials, after all.)

So now, almost three months after returning from China, having spent idyllic weeks lying around watching movies before moving to Oxford, where I've now been for more than a month (time flies when you've got weekly reading lists to complete!), aided by photos I snapped along the way, I will finally begin to recount #GVA2CHN2k17.

First stop: Hong Kong...

Day One: June 15/16

Our flight to Hong Kong left at 3pm, so I spent the morning packing my €30 Amazon hiker backpack. I thought it would be absolutely full, but it turns out that half a dozen white T-shirts and H&M shorts, flip flops, a Spartan toiletry set (toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, and a Lush solid shampoo that would cause me some trouble later), a 10-year-old Sony digital camera, my iPad, and a bag full of chargers doesn't really take up that much space. I threw in some eyeliner and the backpack ended up weighing a little more than 8kg –– impressive, for two months. Blaise, on the other hand, brought a 19kg bag for a two week trip. Life is hard when you wanna look good on vacation...

With a stopover in Dubai, where Blaise nonchalantly purchased a pastel-colored Swatch and we sat down to catch up –– we hadn't really talked in the past year apart from bored back-and-forths in TOK –– we landed in Hong Kong in the late afternoon. After an hour or so spent moving from one sterile, air-conditioned environment to another, wrung out from economy class seats and back-to-back movies, we emerged from the Prince Edward MTR stop into an absolute cacophony of neon signs piled up one on top of another clamoring for space, and the frantic beeping sounds of crosswalk lights, and throngs of people huddled under umbrellas as if blocking the rain from above would protect them from the insurmountable humidity that slithered past the narrow streets and grimy balconies to clamber into our rolled-up sweatpants. 

Our hostel was Wontonmeen, which in any other circumstance would be deemed sad, damp, and small, but because it was joined to an organic coffeeshop and was frequented by hipsters such as Mark, the harem pants-wearing industrial design intern, was instead "cool" and "edgy". It had one large room with ten bunk beds, three toilets, two showers, a washing machine we weren't allowed to use, a common room that was actually outside and was filled with potted plants, a drying rack full of clothes, and a neon sign that spelled out HONG KONG (see above), a full-length mirror, a shoe rack, powerful air-conditioning, and an extremely kind, artsy thirty-eight-year-old lady for an owner. Blaise and I dropped our bags onto our bunks and set off to explore Mong Kok.

Eight Pearls Food Products

Day Two: June 17

The next day was probably one of the most eventful ones of the entire two-month trip. My friend Ariel, whom I'd met the previous summer at Harvard Summer School, met us in the morning, along with her friend Jen, who studies Film and Philosophy at HKU, and Jen's friend Jair, who studies Linguistics and East Asian Studies at McGill and had recently completed his year abroad, and we got breakfast at a joint with a queue snaking around the block and grumpy waitstaff who barked harsh questions at us in Cantonese. The food was amazing: a curious East-West fusion that consisted of macaroni and sliced ham in chicken soup, with scrambled eggs on toast and yuenyeung: half milk tea, half coffee. I still think about that meal to this day. 

Ariel in her natural environment (water... get it?)

Next we took the ferry from Tsim Sha Tsui to Hong Kong Island. The ubiquitous rain covered the view with a thin fog.

Question: What else did we do on that day? 

Choose from this list of possible answers: 

A) Visited Chungking Mansions (for about two minutes)

B) Purchased flowers from an old woman in the IFC mall that smelled strong, sweet, and sticky, like pineapples

C) Got sour plum juice (酸梅汤) and sugarcane tea

D) Visited a store called GOD that sold household things like teapots and wallets with cool Hong Kong designs

E) Went to a building full of small independent design stores with expensive tchotchkes

F) Rode a streetcar

G) Went to a typical mall in Mong Kok

H) Had a waffle with spicy Korean chicken on it

I) Had curry fishballs from a street stall

J) Visited Man Mo Temple and paid our respects

K) Got caught in torrential rain

L) All of the above

Solution: L, of course.

Ariel had a sore throat, so she purchased some remedial herbal tea from this stall in Mong Kok.

After a long, exhausting day, Blaise and I squelched back to the hostel in our wet shoes. We were surprised by how well we were holding up against jetlag. Setting the alarm for 9am, we went to sleep.

Day Three: June 18

We woke up at noon. Oops.

Blaise and I took the tram up the steep, steep hill to Victoria Peak, paying using our Octopus cards instead of purchasing a ticket, which is much more expensive! It was still shrouded in fog, and when we went onto the balcony, it looked as though we were looking out onto oblivion.

Soon the fog cleared a little, and from it emerged that legendary skyline.

Being cheapskates, we descended from Victoria Peak by foot, following winding paths through the forest. After a while, these turned into steep roads with minimal sidewalks that took a toll on our knees. I was wearing flip-flops because my sneakers were still wet from the previous day's thunderstorm, and Blaise's heel was developing a blister. We slid into the nearest sit-down place, which turned out to be an overpriced American-style diner for hipster expats. A white guy on another table was there with his adorable pug. The coleslaw was too oniony.

We chatted and wandered around the streets of Hong Kong island until night fell, then went home.

Day Four: June 19

I woke up with disintegrating cuticles, probably as a result of the change in environment –– Blaise's face was shedding dry skin. I wrapped up my fingertips with band-aids to stop myself picking at them, and we set off. It was noon by then, but we chalked it up to jetlag. We weren't too worried, because our friend Seb was in the air and due to land in Hong Kong in the afternoon, and that was all that mattered. Seb had been working at a conference in the ILO for two weeks, so hadn't been able to join us at the beginning. 

Thus the trio for 'phase one' of the China trip was completed. We were originally supposed to be four –– the four students who made up the most fun table in Year 11 Spanish –– but unfortunately Yasmin wasn't able to make it. We missed her dearly!

Blaise and I killed time munching baozi at Kowloon Park, visiting a small museum, and checking out Canton Road and the waterfront at Tsim Sha Tsui again, before making our way back to the airport. 

Referencing Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters at MUJI.

We checked Seb into the hostel too and went out for a walk around Kowloon. It started raining again, and as we wandered past crowds of bobbing umbrellas, Blaise fell in love with the 7-Eleven umbrella that some people were toting around, so we walked around, checking each store location, until we found him one.

We ended up in Fa Hui Park and its empty sports court whose shallow puddles glinted under the lamps. Following near-empty streets and going out of our way to climb overpasses, we returned to our hostel via the flower market. 

Day Five: June 20

Woke up at noon again. It was becoming more and more difficult to make a good excuse for this, and it would become an awful habit for the next two weeks. :( 

Had dim sum at a nearby place called Ming Dim Sum. We queued for around 15 minutes in the rain, but it was totally worth it for the grilled wonton, the pork and century egg congee, the cheung fan, the chicken rice wrapped in lotus leaves, and of course, the beautiful white, fluffy char siu buns that were as soft as clouds and as sweet as a kiss. The best feeling in the world is introducing your friends to something you love and seeing them love it too. Nursing our food babies, we set off for the afternoon.

We took the gondolas on Ngong Ping Island to see the Big Buddha. It being typhoon season, the weather was still very overcast, and we were initially hesitant about spending money on the télécabines if we weren't even able to enjoy the view. We hadn't considered that the view might be enhanced by the fog.

We lurched forward slowly, passing murky waters, construction projects, and lush green foliage. Ahead was absolute nothingness –– cue that track off the Interstellar soundtrack that makes you feel like the only living being in the universe. 

Up at the top, cute orange dogs lazed around on the floor. The Buddha looked splendid, only barely outlined from behind the fog as we looked at it from the bottom of the steps. We climbed higher and higher, and its forms materialised until it was colossal and we had to crane our necks to see it. Inside, there were rows of people's ashes, and I discovered, from the cards and flowers placed in abundance, that this was Anita Mui's resting place.

We'd been playing Yumeji's Theme in the gondola, so in the evening we checked out Goldfinch Restaurant, where they filmed the famous diner scene from In the Mood for Love. It wasn't that good, and we weren't able to get nice photos. Still worth it, though. After pho, we went back up to Victoria Peak to catch the cityscape at night. 

We had been here for only a few days but I was already being devoured by mosquitoes. It turns out I'm weirdly sensitive to mosquito bites, because not only did I have triple the amount of bites my friends had, but they also swelled to astonishing proportions. We stopped by a Watsons and I purchased some mosquito products to fool myself into thinking such things would make a difference. Obviously mosquitoes are a big issue in Hong Kong, because there was a whole aisle of mosquito sprays and anti-itch lotions. The choice was overwhelming. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, trying to decide which one was cheap but effective without looking like an idiot. In the end I settled for a spray that had a picture of Gudetama on it, because priorities.

Then went to the bottom of the HSBC building to look at cool lights. When Blaise had taken enough photos, we went to a bar that a friend had recommended in Lan Kwai Fong. We talked for hours over mojitos and caught the last MTR home. 

Day Six: June 21

This was a much more relaxed day. We visited the HKU campus in the afternoon, with its gorgeous architecture, steep hills, and relentless mosquitoes. 

There was an extremely hipster café next to the campus called ethos that sold stuff like kiwi smoothies and crème brûlée. We sat there, enjoying the air conditioning and looking at memes on Instagram.

In the evening we were invited to dinner by my parents' college schoolmate, Sui a-yi, and her son. She told us to meet her at the Hong Kong Bankers' Club, which could only be accessed via a really high-tech elevator from a high-end shopping mall. Once we arrived, we realised it was an extremely fancy, exclusive location, with a low-key front desk that made it look like more of an office. We were barred from entering, though, because shorts, flip-flops, and sneakers apparently weren't part of the whitecollar dress code. Sui a-yi wanted to see if we could borrow some jackets to put on, but this wasn't allowed. Instead we had marvellous Argentinian steak that cost so much, we felt extremely guilty. Later we discovered that Sui a-yi was the CFO of Bank of China (Hong Kong). So it wasn't that bad. And the Occitane lavender lotion box-set we'd purchased for her as a gift probably wasn't that impressive to her. She was a really nice lady. 

Day Seven: June 22

Started the day by getting tagliatelle carbonara at the Wontonmeen café. Blaise and I had had it once a couple of days ago, ordering the meals ten minutes before the kitchen closed. It had been cooked up behind the bar by the barista using a teensy-tiny pan, and had been served with a runny egg and a smattering of pepper. I'll let my short-lived journal explain how much we'd loved it: 

(Falling in love, as it turns out, does indeed feel as good as that carbonara.)

So on that day we ordered the carbonara again. Unfortunately it didn't taste as good as the first time. The egg wasn't runny enough. I was sad. 

The magic always wears off. Thus is life.

We took the MTR all the way up north to Sha Tin, where the Hong Kong Heritage Museum is located. The MTR station is connected to a giant mall (not to be confused with MTR stations that are also malls, with underground MUJI To Gos and Mrs Fields Cookies) and we wandered around for a while, confused by Google Maps. Eventually we realised we had to go through a store and step out onto a balcony, where employees were taking a smoke, then cross a bridge into another section of the mall... Finally we arrived. The reason why we were so interested in the Hong Kong Heritage Museum was because, at the time, a lot of Hong Kong museums were closed for renovation. Back when Blaise and I were killing time waiting for Seb's plane to land, we'd visited what we thought was the Hong Kong Heritage Museum in Kowloon Park. It turned out that it was actually the Hong Kong Heritage Discovery Centre, a building with some worn-out exhibits (a lot of things were out of order) that illustrated the history of the city with some slight pro-PRC undertones. Stunned by the fact that there are two institutions by the same name, we went in search of the true museum. And when we found it, it was a little anticlimactic.

I really don't remember what was inside the museum. One of the temporary exhibitions, I think, was about constructing the Louvre. Another was about Jin Yong / Louis Cha, the prolific and revered martial arts author, which made me really happy because I love Legend of the Condor Heroes. I tried to explain Jin Yong to Seb and Blaise, but I don't think they really got it. It's something you have to experience. 

The museum played Erik Satie's Gymnopédie No. 1 on a loop. Blaise and Seb didn't recognise the song. I was filled with disappointment. 

We took a nice stroll along the Shin Mun River and then returned to the city center. For dinner we took up Sui a-yi's recommendation and tried out bo jai fan (rice cooked in a clay pot with meat on top) at this grimy restaurant in Yau Ma Tei where the bright lights glared into our eyes. We got some chrysanthemum tea to go with the dish, and proceeded to have one of the best meals of the entire trip. Seb and Blaise finished the whole thing, but it was too much for me –– and I personally wasn't interested in scraping burnt rice off the sides of the pot, although apparently it tasted excellent. It was a little shady, but we know the adage: the shadier the ethnic food place, the better the ethnic food. 

Bellies full, we wanted to go to sleep early so that we could catch the flight to Taiwan the next morning. But as we were packing up, the proprietor of the hostel invited us to a movie night that she was hosting. Blaise stayed in bed to text his girlfriend, but Seb and I went downstairs and chatted with some of the other hostel guests in the closed Wontonmeen café. It looked so different empty and with the lights dimmed: I felt like I was partaking in something secret and sacred. Crammed in the back room, where she had installed some cinema seats, we watched Ah Ying (1983), a sort of hybrid documentary about a girl who sells fish at a market, but decides to become an actress. She falls in love with her teacher, who is like twice her age, but it's quite a beautiful and contemplative film overall. And Ah Ying is played by the real-life Ah Ying who inspired the movie. 

To be continued...

new year's resolutions are fake

I've been adjusting quite well to university. I'm trying every day to keep my personal space neat and tidy, and thus avoid cluttering my mind with physical worries. I'm doing things daily that I didn't do back home because I was too lazy to: making my bed, opening the blinds, putting on face cream morning and evening, wearing makeup, wearing nice outfits, waking up at 8, going outside. I'm really happy with where I am –– I love my subject, which is really interesting but also highly challenging; I have a fulfilling and supportive relationship; I get excited about things; I have interesting conversations with people; I go to archery once a week; I'm writing letters to different people; I have Spotify Premium!

Some things I can still improve:

• Eating more fruits and vegetables. I realised last Wednesday that I hadn't had a real vegetable in a week, so I went out and bought a bag of carrots and 5 apples and I've just been crunching on them. I'm nowhere near my 5 a day though.
• Focus on one big project. Choose from:
• Translation
• My absurdist novel
• A series of short surreal stories set in Oxford
• Be a bit more social, as in trying to meet more people/hanging out with a wider range of people.
• Do some yoga like my mom keeps telling me to.
• Use that cleansing foam to wash my face.
• Stop going on Instagram explore.
• Try to read my leisure books more.

A poem I worked on from June (?) to September of 2016. I had originally planned on publishing it in my magazine, perhaps, but decided against it, because I didn't want 小季阿姨 to see it (and I still don't). In year 13 (2017) I created Hiroshima mon amie, a work of performance art with references to Ren Hang's poetry (which I translated and can be found on this blog) as well as the movie Hiroshima mon amour, where I paint a portrait of Elise and then burn it as a way to find closure. Originally conceived as just another exhibition piece needed for IB Art, I found that it actually helped. Afterwards, I no longer felt the need to create art about Elise; I had finally reconciled with the truth. Between 2013 and 2017 though, I did write 3 fully completed works of writing about Elise. This is one of them. The mahjong theme was revisited in Good Things Come in Thirteens, a poem about body and physicality that appeared in Sine Theta's issue #3.

See English text at the very end as blurb/footnote to the poem, which is pretty nonsensical without it.

The poem started out as a simple exercise in Chinese wordplay, whilst being bored in Chinese class. As with most of my work, it gradually developed until it revealed my true concerns at the time of writing. I then refashioned it around the true theme that I had to discover through freehand writing.

----------

上吊英雄传

Jiaqi Kang

ladies and 乡亲们

能听得见吗？

给我好好听着

我好像丢了东西

我好像丢了南北

能看得见吗？

给我好好看着

我好像丢了眼镜

我好像丢了眼睛

早就化成了灰

早就化成了霉

我真倒霉

1.东

日出

东邪

赤着脚 踩着沙滩

又粘又湿的沙子抓住赤的脚

年年出去玩沙子

蓝

天

蓝

海

赤着脚 踩着走廊里的地毯

踩着灰 踩着你我

踩着一种奇怪的骄傲

黄河向东流哇

黄皮肤 黄土地

电视上节目上

44 63 66 67

邓超嘎叽嘎叽嘎叽

we are 伐木累

不觉得好烦吗？

不觉得超级无聊吗？

看的清楚吗？

2.西

夕阳

西毒

猴年马月的某个周六

画展顾长卫乌云汉堡蜡烛夜晚街道

沉默在黑暗中的街道

接下来到lord nelson pub喝啤酒

那金色的透明的恶心的液体在

金箍棒里装着好高好高

高到天空

大闹天宫

哎

我妈要是问的话

就说咱们吃饭吃的

超级特别非常的

晚

好吗？

还有佰意楼下厕所旁边卡拉OK

日内瓦唯一的正宗的中国的卡拉OK

男女

女男

邓丽君像蜂蜜一样

又粘又粘又湿的蜂蜜粘住你我

贼猫晚上来敲门

用爪子抓门敲门

唱着一口独上西楼

谁呀

才刚九点就已经唱的这么high

冲完厕所独自一人上楼梯

不觉得好可笑吗？

你还记得吗？你还记得吗？

3.南

星空

南帝

难题难到你了吗？

那缺乏氧气的教室里有你

那充满灰尘的走廊里有你

赤着脚 踩着楼梯上西楼

一楼 二楼 三楼 四

那古老的桌子旁有你

那旅馆的白床前有你

羊年洋气喜羊羊

周五晚上的气氛里有你

吃喝拉撒看电视

中国好声音3

中国好声音4

中国好声音一起像铁丝一样勒死

那个啦啦meme手心抱着陶瓷脑袋

我的内心几乎是奔溃的

遮住眼睛难道就看不见了吗？

你说孟姜女哭长城那时候才几岁呀

眼里那么多泪

脸上那么多泪

那么多泪的时候倒立根本没用

（至少能洗个头）

看的清楚吗？

听的清楚吗？

你还记得吗？

4.北

月光

北丐

我那天忘了在哪里又

听到了月光下的凤尾竹

我那天忘了在哪里又

看见了你画的那些小人

它们一个一个的那么

渺小

苗条

这不是你所要的吗？

你为什么不回答我？

你为什么不理我？

我有做错什么吗？

是因为我那年夏天没有在whatsapp上回你吗？

那两个蓝色的弯勾是不是和毕加索一九零几年一样

那样甜蜜？

邓丽君像蜂蜜一样

又粘又粘又湿的蜂蜜粘住你我

明月光代表我的思念

地上霜代表我们俩之间的友情

我们当年是最好的朋友

现在应该说闺蜜吧

我们还是好朋友吧？

你答应我好吗？

你去哪里了？

你为什么不理我？

中神通

眼神里的疼痛

心里窝着一只死苍蝇

你还记得吗？

当然不记得 没事儿 我知道你不在

我知道你没在

我四处寻找你

我走遍江湖寻找你

终于在灰尘之间发现了你的骨髓

看来这武侠的命实在是不适合你

你的眼睛从背后看着我

看什么看？看什么看？

轻轻的你走了

正如你轻轻的来

闭上眼睛睡吧

明天还得早起

该你坐庄了 快扔骰子

打十三幺是永远都不会和的。

---

English text:

This poem’s structure is inspired by the popular series of Chinese martial arts novels by Louis Cha, The Legend of the Condor Heroes. In it, the Five Greats of the wulin are given the following nicknames: Eastern Heretic, Western Venom, Southern Emperor, Northern Beggar, and Central Deity. The wuxia theme runs parallel to fleeting impressions of past events, references to Chinese popular culture, and accusatory questions. Ultimately, the work is about my best friend, who killed herself in 2013, and the moments she would have experienced alongside me if she were still alive, as well as the numb feeling of disorientation that still surrounds her absence. The style is in part inspired by the poetry of Meilan Steimle, some of which you can read in our first issue.

Legend of the Condor Heroes, Chapter 1

So I started this back in June? And I don't know WHAT I was thinking. Legend of the Condor Heroes is so long and it was taking me, like, at least an hour to get through a double page. And there are four volumes! It would've taken me thirty years. So I'm putting this on hold for now. The part where I go 'blah blah' is because there's a couplet and I couldn't be bothered to try and make it rhyme and stuff, so I skipped it. Anyway, this is it for now. It's not even half of Chapter One! And it's taken me so long.

So at the beginning Jin Yong is really just giving a ton of historical context through a narrative kinda format before the story really begins, and I never even got past that. So if you want... here's some historical context about the Song dynasty.

---

Chapter One: Surprising Events in the Blizzard

The howling waters of the Qiantang river spun ceaselessly and tirelessly day and night around Niu Family Village, near Lin'an in the western part of the Liangzhe Circuit, then eastward to the sea. On the banks of the river stood a dozen tallow trees with leaves crimson as though lit on fire. It was August. The wild grass that grew around the village had just begun to turn yellow. With a dab of light from the setting sun, it appeared even more desolate. Under two tall oak trees were a group of villagers, men, women, and a dozen children, who were listening attentively to the words of a skinny old man.

The orator was about fifty years old, with a long gown whose original green color had long washed out into a bluish-gray shade with hints of white. His two wooden sheets made from of pear trees knocked together, and the bamboo stick in his left hand began to bang on a Jie drum, making repeated sounds. He sang:

The peach has no master, it simply bloomed; crows roam grass fields left ungroomed.
So many ruins surround the ancient well; here all along people have dwelled.

The orator hit the wooden sheets again, and said: "This heptasyllabic poem tells how, after the battle flames had gone out, those houses and homes that had once stood had turned into an obliviated land populated by broken walls and leftover tiles. The four-member family of the Old Man Ye to which this humble storyteller had previously referred experienced various joys and sorrows. They reunited only to be separated, and scattered only to return together again. Those four had been broken apart by Jurchen soldiers and, finally able to reunite, journeyed ecstatically back to their homeland in Weizhou, only to see that their home had been burned to the ground by the Jurchens. Helpless, they were forced to go to the capital Bianliang [t/n: modern-day Kaifeng] to try and seek a living. However, the heavens had calculated unforeseeable events; some people have disastrous luck day and night. The four of them had just arrived at Bianliang when they came face to face with Jurchen soldiers. The leader of the soldiers gazed at them with a pair of triangular eyes and saw that Third Sister Ye was a natural beauty. He got off his horse and immediately grabbed her, roaring with laughter, and installed her onto the saddle, saying, "Young girl, come home with me and service me." How could Third Sister Ye agree? She struggled desperately against his grip. That Jurchen official barked, "If you don't come with me, I'll kill your family!" He lifted his mace and beat it down upon the head of Fourth Boy Ye, splitting open his brains. He died with a scream. Indeed:

"The underworld received a new ghost who had died in vain; the mortal world was robbed of one of its youths!

"Old Man Ye and Mother Ye were shocked with fear, they leapt over and held their son's corpse tightly, crying and wailing. The official lifted his mace, with one stroke each, he cleared his accounts. Third Sister Ye did not cry, saying, "Sir, there is no need for violence, I'll come home with you!" The official was overjoyed and brought Third Sister Ye home. He didn't know that Third Sister Ye had observed he was defenseless: suddenly she ran over, pulled out the sword on his hip, aimed at his chest, and went to stab him. It sounds slow, but in the moment it was lightning fast: that steel sword flew through the air and mighty revenge for her father, mother, and brother was in sight. She didn't know that the official was experienced in battle and familiar with martial arts. A push of the hand, and Third Sister Ye fell over. The official had just yelled, "Little villain!" when Third Sister Ye lifted the steel sword and struck it through her neck. Pity her:

"With unparalleled beauty of flowers and moonlight; a melancholy soul departs to the netherworld."

He spoke some parts, and sang some parts. The villagers were gritting their teeth and sighing with rage.

The man spoke again: "The crowd has heard, popular words tell it right:

bla bla

"But those Jurchen soldiers occupy our great Song dynasty's realm, killing people and lighting flames, raping and pillaging. There is no evil left not committed. Yet we don't see them encounter any punishment. Alas, the great Song's authorities did not live up to our expectations, our China had a vast army helmed by able generals, but as soon as the Jurchen army arrived, they fled far, far away, leaving the common people to suffer. Situations like Third Sister Ye's family tragedy are replicated tens of thousands of times in the regions to the north of the river. They are almost commonplace. Ladies and gentlemen, you live south of the river, it's as if you are truly in heaven. Your only fear is the arrival of the Jurchens. Indeed: it is better to be a dog in times of peace than a man in a world of chaos. Your humble servant Zhang Shiwu passes through this region today to present the audience with this tale, entitled 'Third Sister Ye's Impregnable Chastity'. I have said all that is needed; you have the right to make a departure." Pa pa pa: he knocked the two pear tree sheets together for a while, and retrieved a plate.

The crowd of villagers proceeded to place two or three wen each into the wooden plate, which was quickly filled with sixty or seventy wen's worth of donations. Zhang Shiwu gave thanks, put the copper coins into his bundle, and prepared to take his leave.

A twenty-something-year-old burly fellow emerged from the group of villagers and said, "Mr. Zhang, are you from the North?" He spoke with a Northern accent. Zhang Shiwu saw that he had a tall and strong physique, with thick eyebrows and large eyes, and said, "Indeed." The man then said, "Allow me to be a host; may I invite you, sir, to a few drinks?" Zhang Shiwu was overjoyed and said, "We are but strangers, how can I dare to intrude?" The man laughed: "After three drinks, we will no longer be strangers. M'surname is Guo. Guo Xiaotian is the name." Pointing at a fellow next to him with a clean and bright face, he said, "This is my good friend Yang Tiexin. Just now, the two of us heard you narrate 'Third Sister Ye's Impregnable Chastity', sir, and found it excellent, though we do have some questions about some of the lines." Zhang Shiwu said, "Of course, of course. It is great fortune for me to be able to meet the two of you today."

Guo Xiaotian brought Zhang Shiwu to a small inn at the edge of the village and sat down at a dining table.

The small inn's owner was a cripple who walked on two stilts. He slowly heated up two pots of yellow wine and set out a platter of broad beans, a platter of salted peanuts, and a platter of tofu, as well as three sliced-open salted eggs, then walked over to a stool at the door, where he watched the imminent sunset on the horizon, never looking over at the three men again.

Guo Xiaotian poured the wine and persuaded Zhang Shiwu to drink two cups, then said, "In the countryside, meat is only sold on the second day and the sixteenth day of the month. As such, sir, please do not be offended as we don't have anything with which to accompany the wine." Zhang Shiwu said, "Having wine is already good. From the sound of your accents, you, too, are Northerners." Yang Tiexin said, "The two of us are originally from Shandong province. Unable to bear the filth of the Jurchen dogs, we travelled here three years ago and enjoyed the welcome of the locals, so decided to settle down. Just now, sir, we heard you say that living south of the river is comparable to residing in heaven, with the only fear being the arrival of the Jurchens. Do you think the Jurchen army will cross the river?"

Zhang Shiwu sighed. "Southside is a world of sensual pleasures, with beautiful women everywhere you look. There is gold and silver all across the land. Does a day pass by without the Jurchens wishing to cross over? Whether or not they come is not the decision of the Jurchen kingdom but of the great Song's imperial court in Lin'an."

Guo Xiaotian and Yang Tiexin both felt shocked. They replied in unison, "How so?"

Zhang Shiwu said, "We Chinese have more than a hundred times the Jurchens' population. As long as the imperial court is willing to use loyal ministers and good generals, when a hundred of us battles one of them, how can the Jurchens defend themselves? The northern half of our great Song was gifted to the Jurchens by Huizong, Qingzong, and Gaozong all those years ago. Those three emperors employed evil ministers and oppressed their people. All the generals who set off to fight the Jurchen army were recalled or executed. Our beautiful country was handed over with two hands. It would have been impolite for the Jurchens to decline such a gift, so they accepted it. Today, if the imperial court insists on continuing to employ evil ministers, that would be to kneel on the ground and invite the arrival of the Jurchens. Why would they not come?"

Guo Xiaotian slammed the table so heavily that the cups, chopsticks, and plates were jolted into the air, saying, "Indeed!"

Zhang Shiwu said, "Back then, Emperor Huizong could only think of making himself immortal, of becoming a god. The evil ministers he used, such as Cai Jing, Zhu Mian, and Wang Fu, were shameless minions who served only to help the Emperor loot his people. Those like Tong Guan and Liang Shicheng were eunuchs who knew only to embellish and flatter. Those like Gao Qiu and Li Bangyan were wastrels who allowed the Emperor to indulge in whores. The Emperor never took care of serious matters; all throughout the day, if he was not seeking immortality or painting pictures, he was sending people all across the land to search for strange stones. As the Jurchens approached, he became helpless and crawled back into his shell, transferring leadership to his son Qinzong. At that time, the good minister Li Gang was defending the besieged capital Bianliang, aided by many great generals who sent troops to protect the Emperor. The Jurchen army were forced to retreat after unsuccessfully attempting to attack the city. Who would've known that Qinzong would heed his evil ministers' advice and recall Li Gang from the field? Instead of finding a reputable, experienced general who would be able to uphold the war effort, he sent the fraud Guo Jing who claimed to be able to command gods and deities and control the rains and torrents, asking the man to protect the city with his divine soldiers. The gods of war did not take heed. How could the capital not fall? Ultimately, Huizong and Qinzong were captured by the Jurchens. Those fools got what they deserved, but they doomed the millions of Chinese under their rule."

Guo Xiaotian and Yang Tiexin were enraged by what they heard. Guo Xiaotian said, “We have heard much about the terrible humiliation that was the capture of our two emperors by the Jurchens during the Jingkang era [t/n: the title of Qinzong's reign; for more info click here]. We have also heard about soldiers sent from the heavens, but it was in mere jest. Did such ridiculous things actually occur?" Zhang Shiwu said, "Would I lie to you?" Yang Tiexin said, "Afterwards, the Prince of Kang inherited the title of Emperor and settled in Nanjing, where he was served by loyal and courageous generals like Han Shizhong and Master Yue. He could have sent troops to reconquer the North –– even if they'd been unable to push towards the mighty dragon that is the Yellow River, it would not have been difficult to recover the capital Bianliang. Unfortunately, the traitor Qin Hui wanted peace at any cost, and caused the death of Master Yue."

Zhang Shiwu poured more wine for Guo and Yang, and then for himself. Swallowing the wine in one gulp, he said, "As Master Yue wrote: 'There we shall feast on barbarian flesh and drink the blood of the Xiongnu.' Those two lines of poetry expressed the feelings of the entire Chinese population. Ai, the traitor Qin Hui was lucky that we were born sixty years too late." Guo Xiaotian asked, "What would be different if we had been sixty years early?" Zhang Shiwu replied, "You two fearless and gallant heroes would go to Lin'an and take down that traitor. The three of us would devour his flesh and drink his blood instead of eating broad beans and drinking cold wine here!" At this the three men burst into laughter.

Yang Tiexin saw that the pot of wine was empty and ordered another. The three continued to rage against Qin Hui. The cripple brought another platter of broad beans and another platter of peanuts. Hearing their passionate insults, he suddenly chuckled coldly.

Yang Tiexin said, "Qu San, what's wrong? Do you think we're wrong to hate Qin Hui?" The cripple Qu San said, "You are right to insult him, where is the wrong in that? But I once heard people say that the real culprit behind killing Master Yue to restore peace was not Qin Hui." The three men were shocked, and asked, "If not Qin Hui, then who?" Qu San said, "Qin Hui was the prime minister. Peace or no peace, it was no matter to him, as he would have remained prime minister. Master Yue was determined to destroy the Jurchen kingdom and bring Huizong and Qinzong back. Once those two emperors return, what would happen to Emperor Gaozong?" He said this, then carried himself back to the stool on his crutches. He raised his head to watch the sky and returned to his thoughts. By his face, Qu San appeared to be around forty years old, but his back was bent and twisted, and his hair was white at the temples. From the back, he looked like an old man.

Outside, the voice of a girl shouted: "I killed tigers! I killed three tigers for Daddy to eat with his wine! The tigers are coming, the tigers are coming!" A cockerel fluttered in through the door, quickly followed by a girl holding a fire fork used to stoke fires. The girl was five or six years old, wore two pigtails, and had a dirty face and filth all over her clothes. She looked as though she had just crawled out of a swamp. Seeing Qu San, she laughed and said, "Dad, Dad, I killed tigers for you!" Qu San's face broke into a smile. With a gentle expression full of love, he said, "Good, good girl, how many tigers have you killed!" The girl held the fire fork and went back to chase the chicken, shouting, "I killed three big tigers, one, six, five, for Daddy to eat with his wine. Good girl will eat one herself!" The cockerel flapped out of the door, and the girl followed, still clutching the fire fork.

After a while, Zhang Shiwu said, "Yes! Yes! This brother said it well. Indeed, the culprit who caused Master Yue's death was not Qin Hui but Emperor Gaozong. That Emperor Gaozong is shameless at heart. He would naturally be able to do such a thing."

Guo Xiaotian asked, “How is he shameless?" Zhang Shiwu said, "At the time, Master Yue won victory after victory, leaving rivers of Jurchen blood and mountains of Jurchen corpses. Unable to parry any blows, they could only run for their lives. Our Chinese compatriots in the North rose up to block the barbarians' paths of retreat. Just as the Jurchens were frantically trying to gather their wits, suddenly Gaozong sent a declaration of surrender to beg for peace. Of course, the Jurchen king was ecstatic, and said: Peace is possible, but you must first kill Yue Fei. Subsequently Qin Hui concocted a treacherous plan that resulted in the death of Master Yue at Fengbo Pavilion. Master Yue met his misfortune in the twelfth month of the eleventh year of the Shaoxing era [t/n: the second and last era of the Gaozong Emperor], and within a month, on the first month of the twelfth year of the Shaoxing era, peace was successfully restored. The kingdoms of Song and Jin [t/n: Jurchen] are only separated by the flow of the Huaihe River. Emperor Gaozong became a slave to the Jin Kingdom. Do you know how the treaty of surrender was written?" Yang Tiexin said: "We must have lost a lot of face in that treaty."

Zhang Shiwu said, "Obviously! I still remember that treaty. Emperor Gaozong's name is Zhao Gou. In the surrender treaty, he wrote: 'Slave Gou says: I thank you for your magnanimous mercy and for honoring our land as your fief. I hope that for many generations to come, I will remain your slave. Every year on the Emperor's birthday I shall send ambassadors bearing celebratory gifts. Annually I will pay two hundred and fifty thousand taels of silver and donate two hundred and fifty thousand horses.' He not only made himself into a slave, but commanded his descendants to all be the slaves of the Jurchen Emperor. Him becoming a slave isn't enough, but all the commonfolk of China must become slaves along with him!"

With a peng sound, Guo Xiaotian slammed the table heavily once more, knocking over a cup of wine so that the wine seeped across the entire table. Furious, he said, "Dishonorable, dishonorable! What kind of an emperor is that!"

Zhang Shiwu said, "When the inhabitants of the entire nation heard this news, there was no limit to their indignation. The common people living to the north of the Huaihe River, seeing that there was no hope to recover their homeland, were so sad that they wept blood. Gaozong saw that his position on his precious throne was now as stable as Mount Tai, and praised Qin Hui for his achievements. Qin Hui had already been given the Dukedom of Lu, and now he was also a Great Master. His glory was greater than all, and his power had reached the skies. Gaozong acceded to Xiaozong, Xiaozong acceded to Guangzong... the Jurchens got to keep half of the nation. Thanks to Prime Minister Han Tuozhou, Gaozong acceded his throne to today's Emperor, Qingyuan. What will life be like from now on? Hehe, it's hard to tell, it's hard to tell!" He shook his head as he spoke.

Guo Xiaotian said, "What's hard

people i'd like to get to know better

- agnès varda
- hannah arendt
- marguerite yourcenar
- simone de beauvoir
- frantz fanon
- virginia woolf
- jean paul sartre
- bell hooks
- francoise sagan
- umberto eco
- bertolt brecht
- gertrude stein
- jacques derrida
- walter benjamin

R is for...

I think 2017 is the year of me inadvertently consuming some very romantic media. Paterson, La La Land, Moonlight... Do Not Say We Have Nothing was also so romantic, dripping in homoeroticism of the very honeyed kind, very Moonlight-like in that way. Today I went out with Emily and I made her buy the Thien book and I splurged in 4 books at Payot:

• The Idiot by Dostoyevsky 
• Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
• Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari
• Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman, which I had first heard of as a film that's coming out this year

The last one is so great... it's a hazy humid summer just dripping in romance. If this book had a taste it would be apricots, just like the thick apricot juice that Mafalda makes for Oliver every morning.

It's a very 'Crush Songs by Karen O' type book, I think. So I've put her on and I'm gonna keep reading. I want to read fast but I also find myself savoring each sentence.

I got The Idiot because I'm thinking of getting more into Russian literature, about which I know nothing. I realised today that Russian literature is such a thing, more of a thing than, say, Spanish literature, or whatever. You actually hear about people studying Russian literature a lot, it's about as common as studying Classics or even Art History. And apparently Russian literature is very different. So I'm going to investigate that. I'm excited.