Tuesday, September 17, 2013

An Unexpected Journey

Because we have a Thursday and Friday off next week we had to make up our Friday classes yesterday.  One of the things that made all this bearable was the BBQ that came after classes.  Like immediately after.  I had to make the commute over from the other branch on the opposite end of Xizhi, and by the time I arrived the BBQ had already been in full swing for about an hour.  Jaryd told me they actually rang the bell early so they could conscript him for grilling duties.

Flinging aside warnings at training about how to handle drinking around the Taiwanese staff, I remedy the beer situation with a quick stop at the nearby Family Mart, and truth be told, I'd much rather drink than eat.  Though my Focus class was wonderfully active, especially for a Saturday, teaching evening classes for six days in a row has taken its toll, and even all this delicious food can't summon a shred of appetite.  I feed instead off the vibrant atmosphere, everybody talking casually, laughing, enjoying each other's company.  It's nothing of the formal affair I was afraid it'd be.  Jaryd and Shelly man the grill for a bit, until Tina, our head secretary, kicks them off and fusses over the slightly burnt sweet sausages.  Enoki mushrooms basted in butter and wrapped in tin foil sit next to rows of naked Shitake mushrooms, while oysters simmer nearby.  The night is thankfully cool, so even sitting next to the grill we're not suffering too much, least of all with an ice cold beer in one hand.

Eventually people go their separate ways and the foreign teachers head towards Xike Station, forming an honor guard for Addie, who usually gets picked up by her dad after work.  I can hear her talking on the phone, convincing the other line that she's quite safe under the protection of five foreign co-workers.  I sip on my beer as we stroll through the local night market, chuckling at the prospect of danger in sleepy Xizhi.  If walking Addie home allows her to partake in the pleasures forgoing curfew, so be it.  The cool night breeze  mingled with a warm camaraderie makes the affair far from unpleasant.

Bidding Addie good night, the rest of us make our way to a convenience store, where we make the mistake of buying the foulest tasting beer I've ever quaffed: Burg.  Supposedly German, it makes Pabst look like ambrosia, though at $70 NT for three cans, it'll get you drunk on the cheap as only the maltiest brews can.  Be careful spilling it on your clothes, because once you do this eau de bum beer isn't leaving.

www.facebook.com/pages/德國-BURG-啤酒優質麥啤-Germany-BURG-BEER-/306904372697485

Back at Ryan and Katie's place we pair our beer with some dice game.  First it's Liar's Dice, then 7, 11, Doubles, a game of patience, impatience, restraint, daring, and (sometimes) great heroism.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sevens,_Elevens,_and_Doubles

Notice how it says "you cannot really win" in the article.  I prefer Ryan's words: "Everyone's a loser when you play this game."  Especially when you're drinking Burg.

Around 1:30 am it's about that time.  Ryan's offer to spend the night is tempting, but I figure I'm sober enough to make the short twenty minute journey home.  Outside the apartment I get distracted by a mewing cat, which is usually enough to have me running off when I'm not sloppy.  Ash calls after me, but I'm already trying to convince this particular wide-eyed guy I mean him no harm.  He must smell the beer on me, because he scurries off.  Fucking city cats.  I walk forward a little bit and realize I'm very close to the river.  Looking down at the moonlight glinting off the water's surface, two options lay before me.  Turn back and take the path I know, or go down the path less traveled.  Grinning, I take the plunge down the rocky slope, and stick to the right side of the bank until I have to cross over when I hit water.  You know the second level in Sonic 2, Chemical Plant Zone?  You do if you're cool.  Considering the Jilong River is probably more runoff than water, it's not a bad comparison, though in real life rings aren't your health- health is your health, and I wouldn't risk mine putting any limb in that water for long.  I continue for a ways, enjoying a stillness interrupted only by the soft flow of the river, little more than a creek at the moment.  Eventually, I haul myself up a ladder and continue north, finding myself on one of the arched bridges I've only seen from afar.  As I walk, I glance back the way I came, and am amazed to find Xizhi transformed by this new perspective (and likely my BAC as well).  Away from the clutter, with its tall buildings framed by stars and the Jilong snaking around its outskirts, Xizhi looks a little more bucolic than it might in the daytime.  Seized again with wanderlust, I walk along the river once more, finally scampering up the concrete slope and balancing on a concrete railing.  My eyes follow the river until I'm interrupted from my revery by a pack of wild dogs at the river's edge.  There must be a half-dozen of them, all baying loudly at me.  Pausing to take a deep breath, I return fire at the top of my lungs, laughing afterwards.  Their barking continues, but as I approach they trot off in the direction I came from, though I'm at least twenty yards above their location.  Well, whatever works.  However, their distant barking inspires me to climb down to the river, this time with the intent of crossing.  There's little to substantiate the fear of a retaliatory ambush from these dogs, but the alcohol in my system convinces me otherwise, as I scout vainly for a path across the toxic water.  Seeing nothing, I strip off my shoes and socks, roll up my pants, and find a shallower section to ford.  Sometimes, even sonic can has to take the occasional chemical bath, and if he can survive then so can I.

As I ford, I look back frequently, somehow expecting my pursuers to be crowding the opposite shore, cursing my timely escape.  Nope, just sand and rocks.   It's only when my pants become unfurled and I stub my foot several times that I realize I am, in fact, an idiot.  I stumble up the grassy slope, roughly don my shoes and socks, and try to figure out where the hell I am.  Wandering down a road takes me to a part of Xizhi I've never seen before.  I see a sign indicating the direction to Wudu, and in my sleep-deprived, alcohol tainted state of mind I fear I've wandered too far.  I look at the building signs and feel instant relief to see the characters for Xizhi.  You laugh, but I think it's only a few kilometers from the Xizhi stop to the Wudu one. Wherever I am, I need to resolve an immediate need; my adventures have left me famished, and it'll probably be a good idea to get something in my stomach after all this drinking.  As I bring my purchase over, the clerk at the 7-11 points a finger at my right hand.  "You're hurt."  I glance down.  Sure enough, my hand is smeared with blood.  I don't know where I cut my knuckle, and I won't know until I get home that I've been smearing blood from that cut all over my pants, already soaked with river water.  Sartorial elegance is not on my mind at the moment.

Navigation, if you've been reading this blog, is not my strong suit, and I wonder if I shouldn't just take a cab back home.  Wandering towards a bridge, and seeing what I take to be my apartment building, I take heart.  A beautiful stone motif beckons me down one path, and before long I'm passing through a winding alley, host to not a few heavy-lidded souls and their grisly business.  Pig carcasses, quartered and disemboweled, lay atop stalls that I fear may collapse at any moment.  Pig ears and pig sausages line the narrow alley, and pig heads stare at me with empty sockets.  They are as welcoming as the vacant stares from the butchers, and tell me the same thing: I don't belong here.  Luckily, I think I have my bearings straight and as I emerge from the alley a big, stupid grin creeps across my face.  Xizhi Station sits directly across from me, and the bus stop I take to the Zhongxing branch is on my immediate right.  I'm standing on Datong Road, and I am home.

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