I tend to get the same food at the same places. I think it’s a comfort thing. Like, I know places offer new menus for summer and winter, but I figure if I get hooked on a particular dish they are offering, I have to wait until they offer it again. If they offer it again. Crystal Pepsi, we hardly knew ye. So the food industry would collapse if there were more people like me. I don’t care about the newest Mochafrappalattechino™ offered at Starbucks, because, SURPRISE! I hate coffee.
Xiao Tan Li: Little fields!
Chicken Fried Rice
That being said, when I came to China, I thought, “Won’t have any problems finding chicken fried rice here!” And I did find it, in a weird food street/alley right outside my hotel. I. Was. Thrilled. Chicken fried rice (jirou chaofan or jichaofan) just like back home. Looked the same, tasted the same. Then, they went out of business.
Since then, it’s been difficult. I moved to two different cities, and I discovered some good places to eat, but couldn’t find my beloved chicken fried rice. And yes, I went online to look for recipes to create my own. Some of the recipes claimed it was “better than the Chinese restaurants” but they weren’t. At least my versions weren’t. I didn’t care about being able to make it since it was never right. I’d gladly pay for someone else to get it right.
Probably around a quart, maybe? it’s funny, but the Chinese don’t use those little take out boxes here. That must be an American thing.
Tastes Exactly Like It Should!
And Xiao Tan Li in Ruijing Shopping Mall does it right. It’s not chicken, it’s shrimp. But that’s fine. It really is. The rice tastes exactly like it should, and I like shrimp, and they must throw it in at the last minute, because the shrimp doesn’t overwhelm the rice. You get about a quart of it, I would estimate. It comes in a decent-sized bowl.
The full name of the restaurant is Xiao Tan Li Countryside Food, and I guess the Chinese part translates to little fields. “Xiao” means little, in Chinese. They have a good variety of food here, including a meat series, seafood series, fried vegetables, snacks, desserts and rice, soups, and cold dishes.
Spacious and comfy, and not crowded. Located on the third floor of Ruijing Plaza, so eat and then shop. Or shop and then eat.
Fried Rice and Two Cokes
I have been there so often, they have memorized my order, because fried rice and two Cokes is all I get there. Maybe I’ll order something different someday. The sizzling steak looks like it would be close to pepper steak, another one of my favorites. But for $5.74 cents, the fried rice and Cokes are totally filling. Same size portion, lunch or dinner.
Rafael Carmelo Diaz December 10, 1922–August 2, 2000
It Was Coming
It was 22 years ago that I came home from work and saw my father die.
I knew it was coming, but I didn’t know when. I watched the slow decline of my father, and it was hard. Scans had showed a spot on his liver, and I think his lung. The doctors weren’t sure he would survive the biopsy, so Dad chose to skip it.
I remember feeling so helpless. One day, I knelt beside the recliner he never seemed to leave and said I was sorry he was so sick. I think that was the only time I had ever mentioned his health. He responded, “These things happen in life.”
Then Mom Had a Car Accident
He died early in the morning of August 2. Calls were made. My mother, who had had her own health scare two years earlier, insisted on going about her day. That was just the way she was. My brother and I offered to drive her where she needed to go. She refused. I finally went to bed, but I knew like I knew I am going to die someday that my mother would get into a car accident.
I woke up later that afternoon to a silent house. I went into the dining area and saw a note on the table saying my mom was at the car dealership with my brother, checking on the damage of the car.
It was totaled.
Long after that, I would tell my mom I knew she would get into an accident and would joke about her stubbornness.
End of an Era
Dad was gone, and it was the end of an era.
That hot August day, the rest of the family went to Applebee’s. Not sure why, it wasn’t a favorite family restaurant, but there we were. The sky turned dark and it was thundering. I like to think it was my Dad arguing with God, over something.
Later that night, I was afraid. Dad had been in the living room for months, so the health care assistants that visited would have easier access to do what they needed. And now he was gone. He couldn’t have protected us against any intruders, but I was still afraid.
Today, the Sky was Dark and It Was Windy
It didn’t rain in Xiamen today, but I had a terrible time sleeping the night before. I didn’t get to sleep until sometime in the afternoon today. When I woke up, the sky was dark. And it was windy. Just like it was 22 years ago.
So I have been on summer vacation for a few weeks now. I took a week to basically chill and do what I want. The second week I did an online web thing that met at 4 a.m. my time. This week I’m doing what I planned on doing. Working on an online course. I also purchased another online course in something that I’m interested in. Hope to get through the current one by the end of vacation.
I imagine a few of these will help my blood pressure!The pool that’s “in” my apartment complex. I actually have to walk outside the gate in order to get here, but I love that it is so close by.
P Stands for Pool
Summer vacation means swimming. I have two pool memberships. One is for the pool that shares real estate with my apartment complex, but is not really a part of it. The other is at the resort I stayed at when I came back. When I first toured this place, I was overjoyed to see an empty, in-ground swimming pool. A few weeks ago, I saw a kid in a swim suit walking with his mother and I thought the pool HAD to be open. Checked it out, and bought a membership right then and there. I love swimming. And I would much rather swim outside, under the relentless sun. Guangzhou was gray sky central. Resort pool is very nice, and less crowded, but I have to take a Didi (Chinese Uber) to get there. I’m cheap. So I’ll walk to this pool until it’s closed for the season.
Billions and Billions (of emails)
Summer vacation is time to hit the projects/things I need to tackle. It all piles up, like housekeeping, doctor’s appointments and clearing out email. Today I had 77,000 emails. I took some time to hack away at it, and now it’s down to something like 75,000. Hey, it’s a start.
American expats living in Xiamen needing a snack fix should check out Bear Mart, just a quick walk from Lucuo station, entrance eight. It comes right up in Didi if you want to take a car there.
Your gateway to American and Chinese snackage!
The store carries a selection of popular American snacks, including Lays Classic potato chips and barbecue flavor. There’s microwave popcorn to be had, Act II Butter Lover’s and Movie Theater Butter popcorn. There are plenty of cold drinks too and alcohol.
But maybe the most unique draw is the ultimate in gas station cuisine, nachos (with the gooey, golden yellow cheese), hot dogs, and Slurpees.
You can’t doubt the authenticity of the products in the store because owner Cody is from Georgia (the state, not the former Soviet socialist republic).
Haven’t had Sun Chips in years! They were excellent!
He says business is going well, and the locals seem to appreciate the uniquely American snack offerings. Crunchy snacks are fairly consistent, says Cody, and the candy bars are the variable.
Get your drink on, get your drink on…
Bear Mart
328-2 Jiahe Road, Huli District (Comes right up in Didi!)
Open Monday through Sunday 9 a.m. to 11 p.m.
Take Line 1 to Lucuo station. When coming out of entrance/exit 8, walk to the end of the block and turn right. The blue and pink of Bear Mart will be on your right.
Another Bear Mart location is scheduled to open this summer in Jimei district near Xiamen International School.
For years, I had another blog. It was more like an online rant tool, to be honest. It was pretty angry. I’m still angry, but I guess I don’t post about it as much.
The Last Few Months
Stressed Out would be the theme. Moving back to Xiamen was wonderful. I really do enjoy the city, and tonight I discovered another part of it. It’s a small city by Chinese standards, but certainly big enough for me, especially when you come from this place. Xiamen has a friendly vibe, which I appreciate. At least, when I say, “Xie Xie”, I usually get a “bu keqi.” In Guangzhou, I’d get a grunt. Xie Xie means thank you; bu keqi is you’re welcome. Beijingers would respond politely, if formally. Xiamen is good old fashioned Midwest friendliness, and that is the main reason I returned. If I have to slog through teaching, I’d rather do it in a familiar, friendly city. Some of my best memories in China were made here, and I was happy to come “home.” The last few months have been a high wire act. I don’t want to talk about it too much, but teaching hasn’t quite been what I expected here. So I figured I’d best stay in a city I loved. Guangzhou had great food and I lived pretty close by to some cool stuff, but continual gray skies were making me comatose. I’m more sensitive to changes in the barometric pressure than most people, and I can’t do anything about it. So six months of gray skies were killing me. I had no energy. Beijing as a city and weather wise were fine (plenty of sunshine, even for a nothern city) but the school was bizarre. So I’m doing what I can to survive, which means no frivolous purchases, like an e-bkie. These little electric mopeds are fun, but I’m holding on to my money.
Great Photo-Ops
Living here means photo-ops. I have at least four photo “themes” I’m working on, and I’m planning to turn two of them into books someday. I don’t give a shit about some publisher picking them up; I’m doing this myself through Lulu or some other DIY operation. I have such poor self-esteem, I don’t think any of my stuff is good, so I’ll put it out myself. I don’t care. Even a simple walk means photo opportunities. I took several photos tonight, including one breath taking shot of a building that looked better in the photo than it did in person. I would love it if I could make a living from my “art” (stop laughing) but it makes me feel good if I can take a photo that astonishes even me. I’m so hyper-critical of myself and everything that I do that I hate myself for it. But then I look at the photos I have up on my bedroom wall, and I’m either disturbed or mesmerized, or think, “holy shit, that’s a great photo.” And my ancient Samsung Galaxy 7 continues to crank out photos better than my $600 T5 Rebel or my SX 740, and I wonder, “how the hell does THAT happen?” But great photo-ops are here in China and if nothing else, I’ve got some images I’m super proud of.
The Dell bit the Dust
My used Dell Latitude bit the dust, but I stupidly continued to run it even though there was a fan malfunction. It ended up burning a hole through some important thing and another important thing, so I visited my computer guy in Xiamen and I’m currently tapping away on a Lenovo Idea Pad. I was dreading having to reload everything, but it wasn’t that bad, so far. I haven’t loaded my video software, or Audacity either. I had everything saved on the old hard drive, and I was able to reload my VPN and it wasn’t any trouble at all, thank Goodness. The only bad thing about this computer is that there’s no DVD slot. Yes, I still have DVDs, just in case Google Play doesn’t work. But so far it has, although I will probably break down and buy a DVD player eventually. I have actually been running Youtube almost non-stop. I fall asleep with it on, in hopes that listening to commentary from YourWetSock or ArthurTV or SixteenLeo will distract me from my usual anxieties and help me fall alseep. When the Dell bit the dust, I kept the Youtube going by having my Samsung phone crank out the Youtube videos. It’s awfully quiet in my apartment; and I don’t watch Chinese telelvision. I never opted for cable, which reminds me, I need to pay for my internet. I can’t ever figure it out. Other places I’d pay for a year’s worth of internet in advance, or pay each month. Recently, I am not sure what’s going on. I’m sure I owe money, but I haven’t been cut off–yet. Work has been so insane, that weekends are meant for staying in bed for hours on end watching–you guessed it–Youtube
Summer is Coming
It seems whenever I’m about to lose my mind, a holiday comes up. I’m currently enjoying a five day weekend, courtesy of International Labor Day. I had dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant Friday evening, and downed most of a lemon frozen margarita, which was amazing. I’m not much of a drinker, but the margaritas at Tacos are amazing, and so, so good. Like a lemonade slushy, only with alcohol. But I won’t lie–summer is coming, and I’m excited for it. My first job in Xiamen was at a school that was open year round. Summer vacation didn’t exist. But I’m at a more normal school, and I’m excited. I plan to take pictures and write more and swim and work on some writing courses I’m taking. I have hopes for this, like I have hopes for every undertaking I attempt. Plenty of people say these courses have changed their lives for the better. The people who run it are super optimistic and supportive–which is what I need right now. I’m hoping summer will give me the opportunity to work on these courses and make progress. I should work on these every weekend. I try to devote a couple of hours to it. But it’s hard when it feels like you try and try and try, and nothing works. I think I’ve made my peace with some things in my life. I tell my students not to give up. But I’m finding it harder and harder to follow my own advice. I need to learn to relax, and I’m beginning to understand the stereotype of why foreign teachers drink. I find myself looking forward more and more to Tacos every Friday evening, to wonderful crispy chips and guacamole, to that burrito with the spicy meat, but also for that wonderful margarita. Hey, at least it isn’t heroin. But I do hope that when summer arrives, I’ll chip in for a swimming membership and I can do more of that. There is a pool within my apartment complex, but if I’m correct, it isn’t a PART of the complex, it just shares real estate. So I don’t know if the pool will open for the summer or not. Also, I’ve heard that the pool at my school isn’t functioning either. If it’s true, and neither pool will open, I’ll be extremely sad. Xiamen gets wicked hot in the summer, and to have two pools within walking distance closed will depress me. Swimming is the one exercise that I really love and that relaxes me. With swimming, I don’t need alcohol, And when I come home, I swear, I am going to have a pool in my back yard. I don’t care if it’s an above ground pool, I AM GOING TO HAVE A POOL.
Today is gonna be the day you’re gonna throw up it’s true …
I had dinner with colleagues from work tonight and their sigots and it was fun and we walked around a bit. I had an ice cream bar, then shortly after we all split up, but I felt like walking some more. I did, but I gradually I started feeling unwell. I called a Didi, and threw up on the corner shortly before it arrived. I couldn’t put my window down in the car, and I sincerely hoped we’d get to my apartment before the next round of vomit started. We did, and I was safely in my apartment before I threw up again. Was it that delicious strawberry drink? Undercooked steak? The ice cream bar? Too much fat? I may never know. Because everything tasted good going down. I’m hoping maybe it was the strawberry drink, and fruit that maybe wasn’t washed as well as it should have. I haven’t been eating much lately. I just have no appetitite and it’s mildly alarming. I would still like to lose another 20 pounds because I’m still fat. I can buy clothes online that fit, but to go into a boutique here and pick something out just isn’t going to happen. I’d have to have my 12-year-old body for that to happen, and don’t think I haven’t wished I’d suddenly become the popsicle stick I used to be as a pre-teen. I have never had much of a waist to begin with, even when I was “thin.” I was rocking a 28-inch waist when salesclerks would insist I was a size 7, even though I knew I was a 12. I looked much smaller than I actually was. But speaking of sizes, I can’t believe that 12 is now considered “plus.” When I was a size 12, no one, and I mean NO ONE would have labeled me “plus size.” I’ve lost weight here in China, mainly during the first year when I had food poisoning five times, and literally became afraid to eat. THAT was a weird sensation; not wanting to eat but knowing I had to. Plus, I just didn’t have access to the junk food that I did when I was at home. I still don’t eat much, maybe one meal a day. I remember to nibble on something for breakfast, sometimes. But even today, when I woke up, I had a ham sandwich and five bites into it, I’d had enough. This was a different type of ham that I’d eaten. I’d received it yesterday, and it was okay, I guess, but not what I was used to. So about half the sandwich went into the trash. I don’t know what’s wrong. I wish I could give up the bad food entirely, but it seems like that’s the only stuff that tastes good. And I’m sure the malnutrition is not helping the exhaustion and general sense of malaise that I feel.
No, I’m Not on Lockdown
But anyway, it’s time to wrap this monstrosity up. I’m back, logged into WordPress, and the VPN is working, so hopefully I can post more regularly. Life is good and bad, strange and sad. Whatever propaganda they are blaring back in the states, no, I’m not on lockdown, I get nucleic acid tests about once a week, and I can go out and about if I want to. But even though my apartment isn’t so cute, it has the things I wanted. And I’ve been staying in my bedroom for the most part. It has air conditioning, and my balcony. And YouTube.
I’m not exactly on lockdown here in Xiamen. A few people have asked, and I wouldn’t say I’m lockdown.
Not Lianqian Road, but it looked like this a little over three years ago.
However, we DID go to online schooling rather suddenly this week. I think it could be handled better, but hey, no one asked me.
Why could it have been handled better? Some training on the software we use to teach online would help. I did have some training, but it was a frantic last-minute effort that left me about ready to cry. The software is entirely in Chinese. I have the app on my phone and on my computer. I forgot the password, so I had to log in by scanning my QR code. That worked until it didn’t. At the last minute, I had to change my password, so in a panic, I used my WeChat app with the translator option to see what I could do. Luckily I was able to translate and change my password, so I could log in with my password.
Stupidly, I always use the same two passwords for just about everything, and yes, I know I shouldn’t be doing that. So this time I chose a password I could remember and I wrote it down this time.
Not my password. I’m more creative than that.
Hello, My Name is Gloria, and I’m a control freak
I’m the type of person who wants a plan A, B, C, all the way to Z. I’m a control freak. I tend to panic when something is thrown at me at the last minute. My foreign colleagues kept telling me it was going to be okay. Apparently, my emotional reaction wasn’t something I should express. After the half-assed training I received Monday morning, just a few hours after being told we were going to go online schooling, one of my colleagues led me into a classroom for a private talk. He said I shouldn’t show any emotion or get upset when stuff like this happens. He said in western culture it’s understandable to react like this, but the Chinese wouldn’t understand, and that they would talk about me. I need to cool it.
Also not me.
I get emotional, okay?
I thanked him for the advice. I tend to get emotional about stuff. I wish I could be a stoic robot in these situations, but it was a bit hard. When I was still living in Fort Wayne, I had a crisis teaching situation thrown at me, but I felt like I could handle it. I would have to work very hard for a few weeks, but I was okay with it. My students were impressed by the messages I sent in the wee hours in the morning, keeping them appraised of the situation.
For reasons I don’t want to get into, having this situation of having to learn new software in a matter of a few hours before doing an online class almost put me in tears. You know how if you have to face one more thing, you’ll go over the edge, lose your grip, and so forth? Yeah, that’s where I’m at right now.
The good karma, however, has continued. I was freaking out about being online, but you know what? I have found that I love working from home. They have eased back on the number of classes we have. Monday and Friday I’m slammed with classes, but the rest of the week is pretty cool. I had everything written down and planned out. For some reason, I’m really good when it comes to classroom time management, and I covered everything that I wanted in the allotted time. It was very quiet. I checked and my microphone and camera were on. I communicated with students via chat. I felt confident. It was weird. But really nice. I demonstrated cause and effect with breaking an egg and setting a marshmallow on fire. Then eating it.
Trust more, live better?
I need to trust more. I need to believe it’s going to be okay. I will say I am so thankful for my foreign colleagues who have allowed me to vent and have brought me down and reassured me. That’s something new. It only took three years for that to happen, but I’m so happy that it is happening now. It’s been a lonely past two years.
Ever since I saw the trailers, I’d been stoked about House of Gucci. If I’d been in the states, I would have actually gone to see the movie Thanksgiving Day, even though in the past I have done my best not to buy anything on that actual day, in order to give the retail folks a break. Seeing the trailers really did make me want to be at home, the day off, stuffed full of food, and looking forward to a day at the movies. But thanks to Google play, I finally had a chance to see it. I pampered myself: steak dinner, potato, wine. And I was a bit disappointed.
It wasn’t the first big deal movie I was let down by. I’d waited years to see Judy, the movie about the last couple years of Garland’s life. And even though Reneé Zellweger did a fantastic job as Judy, the movie fell flat. And I felt bad for feeling bad. God knows Garland had been driven at a pace that required drugs, and you’d think as an adult she’d stay clear of them, but the damage had been done.
I didn’t have that same feeling with House of Gucci. I always felt sorry for Judy Garland, but I hadn’t known about the Gucci family drama and demise until recently. I am all about family drama, since my brother and I were left to squabble over our falling-apart childhood home, which our mother had left to both of us. Neither one of us could afford to buy the other out, so for nearly 20 years, it’s been me trying to deal with property taxes and insurance, and keeping it (barely) livable. The matter is heading toward a resolution, however, without anyone resorting to murder. House of Gucci is two and a half hours of a story that never quite takes off, despite a great cast and attention to detail.
That’sa one-a spicey meatball-a!
Lady Gaga as Lady Gucci (or Patrizia Reggiani)
The movie opens in late 1970s Italy, Lady Gaga as Patrizia Reggiani, working at her father’s trucking company. A friend invites her to a party, and Patrizia shows up in a stunning red dress. At the bar, a bookish, nerdy dude is in serving position, even though he is an invited guest. So why is he behind the bar? We’re never told, but they meet awkward and we find out he’s Maurizio Gucci, a Gucci of THE Guccis. Not thisMaurizio The confident Patrizia lures him out on the dance floor. She low-key stalks him and ambushes him at either a library or bookstore, I can’t tell which. They eventually go out on a date. Gucci is seemingly not too interested in the family business, instead training to be a lawyer. He’s sort of like the Michael Corleone of the Gucci family. He’s well aware of the circumstances he’s living in, but doesn’t want to be part of the family business. Of course, we all know how that turned out. Patrizia and Mauri get married, accompanied on the soundtrack by George Michael’s “Faith.” I don’t quite get it, except maybe it means that Mauri needs faith because even though he’s from a family with bucks, Patrizia is not exactly a starving secretary in a cold water flat. However, fashion is much more palatable than garbage trucks, or whatever kind of trucking company her dad runs. So seeing the future, you get the feeling Patrizia has married beneath her and above her at the same time. Mauri seems a bit lukewarm and less dramatic than his other male family members, and he blames that on his mother’s German blood. I hear ya, buddy. I have seen other Latinas more fiery than I am, and wondered why. It makes sense now. You drop a bucket of GERMAN over someone, and it blots out everything else. Mauri is so tightly wound, he doesn’t even show his teeth when he smiles.
Look out Mauri. She admitted she wasn’t a “particularly ethical person,” but she is “fair.” Too bad you’re gonna die soon.
Mauri and Patrizia and House of Gucci
Adding more fuel to the fire is that Mauri’s dad is not fond of Patrizia. He can see through her, and know that this wide-eyed Italian girl has goals, and it’s not to marry a lawyer. He throws Mauri out, and he is in the humiliating position of asking his future father-in-law for a job. He gets a gig, presumably moves in to the Reggiani household, and the wedding comes and goes. Mauri is happy with his blue collar lifestyle, but Patrizia wants more for him. Thanks to Mauri’s uncle, he and Patrizia squirm their way into the business, with his uncle’s blessing. Mauri seems a bit reluctant, but Patrizia is happy to accept free tickets on the Concorde to New York, free Gucci swag, and a great townhouse. Her dreams are coming true.
There’s some drama over shares of the company, and who can do what. One of the uncles, played by Jared Leto, is a wacky Italian caricature of….Mario from Super Mario Bros? He’s packed full of emotion, a wannabe designer who seemingly gets a shot…only to have his fashion show shut down. No one takes him seriously, and he ends up selling his shares.
Hitman’s Paradise
The wimpy Mauri grows weary of Patrizia, dumping her for a slightly younger blonde. Patrizia goes nuts, and it’s interesting to see her go from dripping fur and jewels to sporting jeans and a leather jacket, and a snarling, paranoid mood when she hires a hitman to take out Mauri. It’s sort of refreshing to see a woman so possessive of a man that she goes to such lengths to prove her “love.” Usually it’s the man who’s all “dammit, so she doesn’t want me, fine. I’ll kill the bitch. That’ll show em!” A dead lover/husband is a dead lover/husband, but Patrizia doesn’t care. Women scorned rarely care.
Literally Sacred Cows
Before all this went on, businessmen are trying to convince Mauri it would be in his best interest to sell his shares. Apparently mad bucks are being spent on everything except how to run the business properly, and he is reluctant to part with an empire. But $150 mil is $150 mil. He is forced to see how extravagant his spending is when at a dinner with investors, one of them asks about the meat they are served. The butler informs him where the meat comes from (Gucci cows, of course) and that the animals are treated like “royalty.” At this, Mauri slams his plate full of food into the floor and storms off.
Finally the deed is done, and we’re in the courthouse seeing Patrizia and her hitmen buddies and psychic best friend Pina get sentenced. We are left with credits summing up what happened to everyone else who was involved with Gucci. The wacky uncle died in poverty in London. The patriarch, Aldo, died of prostate cancer in 1990.
House of Gucci: Let’s Do Some Editing
Each scene was about a minute too long.
I usually can put my finger on what’s wrong with something, be it a restaurant, a population control plan, or a novel, thanks to my lifetime of picking things and people apart, but I’m not sure what exactly is wrong with this movie. I’d have to start out with an editing problem. Each scene feels like there’s a bit too much of it. Like we get it, they get married. Too much time spent on that, the ski slope, the “hey, we live in a huge penthouse in New York, isn’t this great?” reaction shots of Patrizia set to the Eurthymics “Here Comes the Rain Again.” Even the scene where Patrizia confronts Mauri’s old friend and new lover Paola goes on for too long, involving strudel of all things. I’d start with editing first, but of course, no one asked me.
I guess the reason I’m upset is that I paid $20 or so to see this movie. I usually rely on my gut instincts when I pick films, and usually I’m rarely disappointed. But even though I spent the same amount watching it in China as I would in the US (when you figure in the popcorn and soda) I am upset that I spent that much on a movie that I literally cannot sit still to watch. I think I’ve tried watching it three times, and each time I want to get up for a snack, do laundry, wash my makeup brushes, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth or surf the ‘net as this semi-biopic drags on. It’s a shame that someone was murdered, but I can’t conjure up any tears for Maurizio Gucci. I felt he didn’t put his foot down enough when it came to Patrizia, and it seems like she was a better businesswoman than any of the guys involved. She actually gave a shit when she discovered her maid’s husband had bought her a Gucci bag for her birthday, and found out it was a well made fake. Neither Mauri nor Aldo seemed to care either, and that enraged Patrizia. Maybe Gucci was destined to fall only to rise again, without anyone named Gucci currently working at the firm.
Lauren, Ralph Lauren, not House of Gucci
Me, I’m a Ralph Lauren kind of girl. The Gucci print fabric doesn’t do anything for me. I prefer my bags a solid color and a classic shape, unless I’m in one of my whimsical modes. Classic lasts, and if I can ever afford it, I’d rather drop a grand on a bag that is going to look good five years from now, instead of only fifteen minutes. It’s the same with Louis Vuitton. I don’t like patterns, give me plain leather. Even that bag Carrie gave Louise in the first Sex and the City movie was awful. When I was in Beijing, I spotted a Stella McCartney bag I was very tempted to buy, but it was $1300. What was astonishing to me is that I actually had enough money to buy it, but didn’t. I wanted to hold on to my cash, because with my lack of luck with jobs here in China, I have absolutely no business dropping that much coin on a relatively small bag. This photo looks almost exactly like the bag I saw, except I could have sworn the one I saw in person had drawstrings at the top.
So cute. But I was a good girl and said no.
So, House of Gucci gets a “meh” from me. It’s a good movie to clean house to. I’ll watch it again, maybe to see if I can get through it, but when I watch it, I can’t stay focused.
My mom’s birthday was on February 21 and I usually post something, but I guess I was too preoccupied with other things.
I like to think that my Mom is happy that I’m in China, but she’s probably also worried, if spirits can do that. Mom wanted to travel, but the older she got, the fewer places she went to. I was trying to get her to go to Las Vegas, but she wasn’t interested. She didn’t like flying and didn’t like driving on the highway. She was so freaked out about highway driving that even though we scheduled a visit to Plymouth, Indiana, to check out a litter of puppies, she’d gone to Petland and got Daphne. Mom just didn’t want to drive on the highway. I was a bit horrified, getting her from a pet store, but she must have been one of the lucky ones. I never knew if she was from a puppy mill, but she was our longest lived dog. Seventeen years, four months, and two days.
But I think it’s a bit sad that in her younger days she wanted to travel, and when she finally had time and a little bit of money to travel, she never got any further than Angola. She had a friend she used to hang out with, and every Saturday, they’d have lunch and drive around. I was happy that Mom had reconnected with an old friend.
Anyway, Happy Birthday Mom. I think I’m on the right track now. You were so smart about things, and at least one of your predictions about me came true. The other hasn’t, but that feeling you had that computers would someday run our lives was spot on. I’m working on your third prediction. I love you. I hope it comes true.
Today, February 28, 2022 marks my third year in China. Or, my Happy Chinaversary.
Last year, I didn’t make a video, The first year I did. The song is a mashup of “Jump” by Madonna and “West End Girls” by the Pet Shop Boys. I’m rather proud of this mix which I did myself.. Featured in the video are photos from the first year. Why isn’t there a second year video? Glad you asked.
Oh No Guangzhou!
Canton Tower, Guangzhou
Guangzhou River, showing the financial district.
I had to move away from my beloved Xiamen and chose Guangzhou because it’s only an hour from Hong Kong. However, Covid said “screw you” so I never got there. I was in Guangzhou, which has really good food and they’ve done a wonderful job with their riverfront, but I couldn’t take six months of gray skies. After a week, I thought, “It’s gotta clear up sometime.” A week turned into a month, then two months, then five months, then six months. To say I was depressed was an understatement. The lack of sun rendered me practically comatose, so I spent my lunch hour locked in my classroom, taking a nap. If anyone complained, I was going to say if I didn’t get my short nap on my lunch hour, they’d be lucky if I showed up to work at all.
YouTube Saved my Life
So from February to July, I struggled to get through the days. I finally got caught up around March, and by then I didn’t care anymore. Sounds terrible, but it’s the truth. I’d come home at night and fall asleep to YouTube. Making a video was the furthest thing from my mind. I really wasn’t in a good place.
Back home Again, in Xiamenana …
This year, it snuck up on me. Dealing with a new school, getting back on schedule and coping, I realized earlier today that it’s been three years since I set foot in China. I’m hoping my return to Xiamen gives me the kind of life I’d envisioned for myself over here when I was still stateside. My first year in Xiamen I had to work year round and had shorter vacations than normal schools (except for that four month vacation when Covid came to town) so exploring happened on weekends or some of the longer holidays we had.
Wish I Could Forget
So Happy Chinaversary, no video, sorry. I don’t look back fondly at my stint in Guangzhou, or the nanosecond I was in Beijing. But hey, at least the sun shone there. I remember that first Sunday, I went to Tiananmen Square and basked in the bright sunshine and crystal-clear sky. The sky was such an amazing shade of blue I couldn’t believe it.
See what I mean? I couldn’t get enough of this sky!
So hopefully next year I’ll do a video and have plenty more pictures of Xiamen to put in the video.
Little Girls in Pretty Boxes is a great book about female figure skaters and gymnasts. I always wanted to be one or the other, but never realized my dream. At least I taught myself how to skate (not well, and I can’t do backward crossovers), but I don’t fall when I skate, so there’s that.
Killed by the Yurchenko
Joan Ryan wrote this book sometime in the 1990s, and I highly recommend it for anyone horrified by what went down in the women’s singles event in Beijing. Little Girls in Pretty Boxes mentions Tara Lipinski, Michelle Kwan, and several well-known and obscure gymnasts, who faded away before they ever got any real press. Ever hear of Julissa Gomez? She rose in the ranks of gymnastics and kept going even though her training ended up separating the family at one point. The real horror was her demise. Gomez learned the Yurchenko vault to earn more credibility. In order to get a lot of height, you need that extra momentum. So she learned the Yurchenko, which requires the gymnast to run full tilt down the runway, then do a round off back handspring ON to the springboard, facing the vault backwards and upside down, pushing off with the hands, execute a number of twists and somersaults before landing back on Earth.
A Botched Thomas salto
Gomez was at a meet in Japan. She kept thinking about Elena Mukhina, a Soviet gymnast pushed too hard into training after recovering from a broken leg. She wasn’t ready to do the floor exercise trick, but did it anyway. Her coach, Mikhail Klimenko, had her doing Thomas saltos, made famous by Kurt Thomas. It’s a 1 ½ back flip into a 1 ½ twist, with a forward landing. Fresh off the surgical gurney, the Soviet national coach pushed her to try the trick. She crash landed on her chin, and became quadriplegic.
A thousand yard stare if I ever saw one.
Haunted by Mukhina
Gomez couldn’t stop thinking about Mukhina after one of her former coaches was pointed out to her at the Japan meet. Mukhina’s ghost must have been out for blood, because while Gomez was warming up, she attempted the Yurchenko, a skill she wasn’t consistently good at. Her foot slipped off the springboard, but she kept going. Without any lift, her head slammed into the vault. She was going so fast, she cleared the vault anyway, flopping to the mat. She was in a vegetative state for years until she died from an infection.
At least, in tennis, you might be able to make a bit of money…
Binging, Purging and Sexual Abuse
The book also talks about eating disorders, wacko coaches, image, nutrition, and how college gymnasts have the same bone density as post-menopausal women because surprise! They stopped menstruating years ago due to barely eating in order to keep their weight down. Binging, purging, sexual abuse, Olympic hopefuls in odd years born too early to have a shot at glory. It’s all here, and female figure skaters are the winter sisters of their fellow tumbling athletes and have stories to tell. Ever wonder why women’s skating champions aren’t really women, but girls? Because school figures, the tedious tracing of marks on ice were eliminated sometime in the 1990s, paving the way for 90 pound wonders to pull off triple loops, sometimes in combination. Once you develop hips and breasts, it’s over.
No Fat Chicks, or Average Chicks
If memory serves, the book mentions that the 1972 USA Women’s gymnastics team had an average weight of 121 pounds. Now, the average weight is around 85 pounds or so. Average age is about 17, I think. Larissa Latynina was 21 before competing in her first Olympics. She retired at 29. Which seems astonishing now, but this was before Belá Károlyi discovered that there’s nothing quite like five-year-old kids who don’t quite realize how dangerous life can be. Thus, the youth movement in gymnastics began, and how Olympic champions were created before they were old enough to drive cars.
Athletes are Entertainment
So the freak out over the Russian skaters and their coach from Hell is nothing new. It’s been going on for years, but athletes are entertainment. We sit at home scarfing Cheetos and washing it down with gallons of Coke and Mountain Dew, while these athletic wonders go on to Olympic glory, but sometimes not. Mukhina died at the age of 46, Elena Shushanova at 49, and Kurt Thomas at 64. Pass me the Lays Classic and a two-liter of Coca-Cola, I’m gonna hit up YouTube and watch what I never could have been, not in a million years.
No Way! Laowai! 
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