O cu da China
This city is filthy, polluted, and boring.
I still don't know where Patrick went. He has the key to the lockbox that holds my laptop, and I haven't seen him all day.
I realized the irony that this hostel calls itself "Pathfinder," when it's so hard to find.
I booked my train ticket to Kunming.
None of the guests here except one girl and one Japanese guy speak any English. Most are unfriendly Chinese.
I ate lunch at the hostel, a cheap 80 cents US meal of potato shreds stirfry, tofu, and mushroom and egg soup, with rice. I walked around the shitty neighborhood that surrounds the hostel: a street specializing in art supplies to the north and autobody shops to the south. Both ends full of gawking Chinese. I found a grocer and had some yoghurt, returned to the hostel where I used the net to watch South Park. Bored again, I ate dinner here (lotus root with fatty pork, white rice, tofu with celery and pork, and tomato egg soup) and went for another stroll. i found a bigger grocer and bought some mocha coffee mix, which I drink as I write this. I shared some with the newly arrived Japanese guy as we chatted. He will travel the world for 3 years; he's 27 now and will return to Japan when he's 30. His family doesn't support his decision to travel, and he had to quit his good job as a television animator. He gave me his map of Shanghai and information about a good hostel there. Thank goodness for good company! Nihonjin ga daisukii!
This journal writing has been interrupted by the Japanese-loving Chinese art student who has introduced me to her classmate,m "Julian Kalends" (as in the Julian Calendar?) who wanted to practice his English and talk about the US and travel. I became suspicious when he invited me to their "gallery" (why do art students have a gallery?), but he didn't push me when I declined. Perhaps my suspicions were unfounded. He told me that he doesn't like the Japanese because of World War Two, and I tried to tell him not to blame the present for the past and not to blame the people for their government's actions. He didn't look convinced. He asked for my email and gave me his. He also explained his name: he thought Julian was another name for Constantine (?), so I told him the story of Julian Augustus the Apostate who tried to revert Rome to paganism. I also told him the the letter k wasn't used in Latin, and he protested. I told him k is of Greek origin and pointed to words like "calendar" in English/French/Italian/Spanish and names like Caligula. He said he got the k from a book, and I said it might be an error or a phonetic spelling. Blah. An effeminate fellow, quiet, but nice enough assuming he doesn't send me emails asking me to buy his art!
Tomorrow I'm going to East Lake to see the supposedly "best" place that Wuhan has to offer before dpearting on a 2-night train journey to Kunming.
I still don't know where Patrick went. He has the key to the lockbox that holds my laptop, and I haven't seen him all day.
I realized the irony that this hostel calls itself "Pathfinder," when it's so hard to find.
I booked my train ticket to Kunming.
None of the guests here except one girl and one Japanese guy speak any English. Most are unfriendly Chinese.
I ate lunch at the hostel, a cheap 80 cents US meal of potato shreds stirfry, tofu, and mushroom and egg soup, with rice. I walked around the shitty neighborhood that surrounds the hostel: a street specializing in art supplies to the north and autobody shops to the south. Both ends full of gawking Chinese. I found a grocer and had some yoghurt, returned to the hostel where I used the net to watch South Park. Bored again, I ate dinner here (lotus root with fatty pork, white rice, tofu with celery and pork, and tomato egg soup) and went for another stroll. i found a bigger grocer and bought some mocha coffee mix, which I drink as I write this. I shared some with the newly arrived Japanese guy as we chatted. He will travel the world for 3 years; he's 27 now and will return to Japan when he's 30. His family doesn't support his decision to travel, and he had to quit his good job as a television animator. He gave me his map of Shanghai and information about a good hostel there. Thank goodness for good company! Nihonjin ga daisukii!
This journal writing has been interrupted by the Japanese-loving Chinese art student who has introduced me to her classmate,m "Julian Kalends" (as in the Julian Calendar?) who wanted to practice his English and talk about the US and travel. I became suspicious when he invited me to their "gallery" (why do art students have a gallery?), but he didn't push me when I declined. Perhaps my suspicions were unfounded. He told me that he doesn't like the Japanese because of World War Two, and I tried to tell him not to blame the present for the past and not to blame the people for their government's actions. He didn't look convinced. He asked for my email and gave me his. He also explained his name: he thought Julian was another name for Constantine (?), so I told him the story of Julian Augustus the Apostate who tried to revert Rome to paganism. I also told him the the letter k wasn't used in Latin, and he protested. I told him k is of Greek origin and pointed to words like "calendar" in English/French/Italian/Spanish and names like Caligula. He said he got the k from a book, and I said it might be an error or a phonetic spelling. Blah. An effeminate fellow, quiet, but nice enough assuming he doesn't send me emails asking me to buy his art!
Tomorrow I'm going to East Lake to see the supposedly "best" place that Wuhan has to offer before dpearting on a 2-night train journey to Kunming.