Rhythm di Paolo

I am not the sort of person who would share all the facets of his life to everybody. Whenever I pick up a topic, I always ask myself the same question--is it too personal, i.e. is it too self-centred? Such a question, therefore, deters me from writing anything. True as it might be that the daily life is the most easily-picked-up theme for blog writing, I still preserve a strong disapproval to the exposure of personal life: one's mood, emotion, loving affairs, etc.  

However, life is what life is. It is a net no one can escape from. What makes things worse is you know you are suffering, but you are not able to change anything. It makes sense for some people to share their life with others--no matter it is an unintentionally-picked fragment or a adequately-stated affair--because we are all born to be alone,i.e.everyone is an orphan(Zhou Guoping).

This morning, I read about a piece of old news which happened during the Olympics. A man named Tang Tongming savagely knifed  a visiting American couple inside Beijing's Drum Tower on Aug.9th and subsequently jumped 130 feet to his death. People in China may complain about the government's news block again. In this case, however, I should make it clear that the government only hurdled the news from reaching the domestic public for harmony: nothing to blame. The focus is the motive of Tang or to be more exact, what kind of plight he had got himself into so that he committed such a horrendous crime with such dramatic timing.

Needless to say, Tang bore malice towards the government and CPC. He wanted to exploit the Olympics, during which China was under the international scrutiny, to reveal his miserable life and wrought an revenge on who he thought had cornered him. Besides that, there seemed to be no other way. Otherwise, he would have had to continue his pitiful life: a degenerated social status, a poor and futile life, a wastrel son and an agony of two broken marriages. As a worker who possessed a respectable social status during Mao's era, he was reluctant to accept any menial job after his lay-off. Thus he could not afford his living and henceforth degenerated into a self-immensing gambler. On such a current situation as the aggravating financial crisis, this appalling tragedy, I hope, could be averted.

Let's come back to the topic I started with: everyone is an orphan. Do not fancy others will come to your help when you are in trouble. In ninety-nine cases out of one hundred, you are the only person who can help.

Ever since I was a kid, I've been dreaming of coming to Beijing and of visiting the places of interest mentioned in those--still to some extent--politically-oriented primary school Chinese textbooks, say Tiananmen Square with its surroundings, the safe island in Changan Street by PM Zhou and courtyard houses etc. All these only existed in the fantasy of a ten-year-old school-boy who lived in the seaside suburb of Shanghai. But for the credit I won myself, the dream would have taken more years to realize.

The three of us--two Shanghainese and one Beijing native--took a trip to the Hutongs in Beijing and enjoyed a dinner in Quanjude Restaurant which is renowned for its roast duck.

Hutong is a word with Beijing characteristic, the counterpart of which should be Nongtang in Shanghai. It refers to the narrow passes formed by the interval of buildings, usually in the east and west direction. The one we visited is called Qian Chao Mian Hutong, a rather obsure one with a perfect folk name. Even such an obsure hutong, however, reflects the present confrontation between the modernization and tradition. Walking in the hutong, we can feel a vivid contrast between the left--a towering residential block and the right--a lofty wall defending the inside people and culture. As we know from the Beijing native classmate, the scale of hutong has shrinked stunningly in the past few years and now the shrinkage is still occurring. Whither goest thou, hutong?

After the hutong visit, we took the metro to Fangzhuang. A few steps from the metro station and the conspicuous fascia of Quan Ju De could be seen in distance. That's where we had the roast duck dinner, one that every visitor won't miss. The restaurant was a must-choose one to give treat to the visiting foreign leaders. PM Zhou held as many as 27 banquets in Quan Ju De. Luscious as the course was, the waiting was painful--some forty-five minutes is required for the toast. Finally the claret roasted duck with crispy skin was brought to the table in full figure and a skilled cook sliced the duck in front of us--live. Then we fold with a lotusleaf-shaped cake the duck pieces, scallion slices--my favourite, and sweet sauce. As for the taste, it's just beyond description but quite oily, which prevents you from having too much of them.

When we were back onto the street again, it had been quite cold. The neons were glittering and altering theirs patterns colorfully and mechanically. Suddenly I realized it was this city that I was now living in. And I am determined to find more.

If I tell you that the indoor heating system begins to work today, how is it that you are likely to respond? A simple "ng" or "huh", right? Or maybe you talk in a more compassionate way like "It must be very cold.Take care of yourself". What I want to convey here, however, is that the life here is rather wearisome and even such a slight incident can cause a splash among us freshmen.

After a one-hour tedious lecture on the use of English dictionaries by an elegant old lady, I couldn't help having the inclination to rush out of the room. Not that the lecture was not impressive but because of a boisterous classmate who seemed to have millions of questions to ask and who always had a tendency to speak in public. It is something like she had to have some questions. Anyway, gossiping is not my style and let's just dump it.

Later I went to the Chinese fast food restaurant for an order recommended by an assistant teacher--Rice mixed with tuna. To be exact, after tasting it, I found it no more than rice with fishmeat powder and several kinds of sliced vegetables. This proved the teacher's saying"I am not a person with persuit". Coarse as it was, it is at least, to some extent, say, eatable.

Then came the self-studying time. Riding my own bicycle to the classroom building, I risked my bottom being dented by the torturing seat. Any accidents happening, I would regret for the rest of my life. The fourth classroom building is composed of many small classrooms and this very feature creates a romantic or seductive atmosphere for hormone entities. Anyone who inadvertently heads inside would sure be rendered much embarrassed. Actually this is exactly what I did this evening. If asked about how I felt, no comment.

On my way back to the dorm, the blistering cold warmed me up for those unconscious sights I caught had already chilled my marrow and heart. It is just colder than cold. 

It's been nearly a month since I got here. I, as a freshman, at first couldn't figure out how everything is working at the giganic and seemingly complex campus. From infusing money to the cyber-account to selecting the courses, from establishing friendships with persons coming from different parts of China to coping with the lifestyle of Beijing---every little shore I need to learn to take care of.

Gradually I begin to realize why yearning could be chosen as a forever theme for poems. The pain that people separated undergo! This may account for my very action of getting myself a guitar only a week after I came here. Guitar has been my best old friend for a long time. And we both know well what we are to each other. Never will I desert the love of it for others, I promise. The piece I love most Recurdos de la Alhambra has been my dream ever since I began to learn how to play the guitar. The skill of tremelo was employed to the piece adding a buddle of reminiscence as well as a bit of nostalgia. With my exertions, I am now approaching my dream. There's still a lot, however, to be improved. It is a flawless dream that I want to own.

Ricordi, the Italian form of Recurdo, is what I am always sharing with the one to whom I am saying Happy Birthday at the moment and will in those years to come---as long as I can breathe. For it keeps me alive.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 
And if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Happy Birth Day to my beloved.

No more craps for the college entrance exam or the enrolment stuff. Tomorrow, I am leaving this land where I grew up. Actually, as the shuttle bus was leaving Songjiang this afternoon, I was in a flood of nostalgia.

I spent both my junior and senior high school time in this land. Besides saying thank you and goodbye, there seems nothing more I can say. Simple as my words are, the love for this land will last forever. Not that it fostered me into a qualified college student but also that it is a huge platform that can burden everything I need now and on. This makes me think of the Shanghai Biennale I visited yesterday. A city is a vast container, people in it are like small chemical elements with dynamism. Anything could happen here. An artist on the exhibition is using mathematical symbol to connect two logically-unconnected things. After reading a story about each connection, you may comprehend the complexity of a city. Thanks to this complexity, we have the chance to get everything.

Shanghai, thank you for giving me so much. I will come back to your embrace sooner or later.

Yesterday I went to a big bookstore in Shanghai. I was choosing some English vocabulary books for my friend I would visit that afternoon when a young man came up to me. 

He talked to me in Shanghainese:" Excuse me, do you speak Shanghainese?" "Yes" I answered, of course, in Shanghainese. His face turned bright and he said:" So you must be a Shanghainese. I was meant to go to an interview nearby but unluckily my wallet was stolen, so I've got no money at the moment. Would you be kind enough to lend me some so I can get home. I can give you the money back here tomorrow." As he went on explaining the situation, I thought it believable and gave him a 5 yuan note. He handed over the money, said it was not enough and wanted more. I gave him two yuan more but he kept saying not enough. Up till then, I started to grasp what was happening on me --- a naive senior high school graduate.

Finally, I watched him leave with my 7 yuan in his pocket. I hope he was going to the metro station rather a cyberbar or any other lousy place. If I were given a chance to meet him again, I would say to him:" I was so glad that day your wallet wasn't actually stolen." 

It's not unacceptable to lose 7 yuan. But it does matter when someone takes advantage of your good nature to commit a crime. And it is depressive to know it is just because of your good nature that you makes a fool out of yourself. Furious as I am, I still wish the young man could find a job soon and make a living on his own before he goes too far. What's more, I'd like to advocate severe punishment imposed on such seemingly small crimes because they can alienate people and spread distrust among the whole society.