Problems have solutions (Part II)

I got another odd search term that brings my page up as the number two search result on google. This one is so mysterious, I can’t stop wondering what the person was feeling or thinking when they searched for it… And since they navigated to my page in their results, whether they enjoyed my site and if it helped them at all. The search was:

“the time my heart not to stop to ache”

The most wonderful thing happened this morning. Usually Anne wakes me up at 6:00, but today she overslept and alerted me of the time at 6:30. As is “par for the course” I half slept for another 20 minutes or so. When I finally arose, still in my PJs, Freddie calls out to me from her room across the hall.

“Jamie, come here for a moment. I have a gift for you!”

A gift? What could it be. When I saw it I nearly cried. I hugged her and could scarcely bring myself to let go. I danced and I hugged her again. What was it?

IT WAS HARRY FREAKING POTTER’S NEW BOOK!!!!

I am not entirely sure where she got it, but it is without a doubt the official verson. FIRST EDITION! YES! YES!

I can’t contain my excitement, really. However, this gift brings its own small set of problems. Specifically, what to do of the most interesting Misters Norrell and Strange:

I am sufficiently engrossed in their story, but I am only halfway done! It is 1000 pages! It will take days to finish it. It is not a difficult read and while it does carry you well through the plot, it does not flow easily and I find myself having to take breaks when I become frustrated with stunted action.

You may be wondering why this is so inconvenient for me. I am quite compulsive about the way I read and I am extremely torn between two very important practices.

1. Finish one novel before starting another.

2. Read Harry Potter as soon as it comes out.

I am already a week late on Harry. I don’t even know if I will be able to enjoy the conclusion of Mr. Norrel’s quarrel with Mr. Strange and whether the man with the thistle-down hair is really the Raven King if I know that Harry is waiting… God this is awful. I am in distress.

My solution must be to finish Ms. Clarke’s book with haste and then try my best to remember that I must pay attention to my new destinations in China even though I have important fiction to absorb. I have been waiting for this day since about three days after the 6th Potter book came out (which is when I finished it).

I just realized that I cannot remember the last novel I read that has no element of fantasy… Nothing I read has the slightest possibility of happening. Before Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel (which is about two magicians), I read House of Leaves (I feel like there must be something between them, but I cannot think of it) Before that, I read Chuck Palahniuk’s new book about the future and traveling through time by participating in not so accidental but rather disastrous traffic accidents. I truly believe the last realistic fiction I read was A Moveable Feast by Hemingway, and that was for a class semester before last (though it was a very good book). Actually, that isn’t even fiction.. he wrote it about his life in Paris!! I started A Clockwork Orange but I forgot it. Although it is about the future, it is possible, I suppose..

I’m sorry I am rambling about books. I know it is is not the most interesting topic to most, but I am quite excited and upset about fiction at the moment.

THE TOPIC AT HAND:

I went to the market again, yesterday, but it was a different one. It was nicer and my heart ached that I could not afford the prettiest yellow dress I have ever seen. I felt as if it were my dress and they stole it from me. Even Steve admitted it was a very nice yellow dress.

When we first arrived, I was struck by the hilarity of the following two signs:

(I wonder what numbers eight and nine were that they weren’t translated…)

About the second sign:

After I took the picture, a girl asked if it was incorrectly written. I told her no, it is in perfect English. It is just a strange sign to see indoors as Americans consider it a given that you should not spit inside.

There is no shame in clearing your throat here. And I don’t mean a little “ahem.” People loudly bring phlegm and spit from their throats and chests. Sometimes I feel as if they are over exaggerating because these are not sounds I would ever make in private, much less in an office or restaurant. I wish I could demonstrate, but onomatopoeias fail me completely on this one.

The market was wonderful and I now have more gifts than I have people to give them to. I know I will find myself unprepared upon my return, though.

When it was time to leave, Freddie went to meet her brother in law who had just arrived in Beijing, and Anne decided to stay. I found myself out of money and having abused my credit card sufficiently for one day, so I went with Kathy and her grandchildren and the four of us crammed into a cab. We showed the driver the address of our school and off we went. Then he didn’t know where to go and started asking for directions. He was SO ANGRY that we didn’t know exactly where to go. It is quite confusing once you get near the school. You must cross a bridge, cross another going over the same river in the other direction and then pass through two round abouts. He started yelling at us in Mandarin and Steve, in the front seat, started yelling back “WHY DID YOU AGREE TO TAKE US IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS!?” I found the situation to be very funny. So much yelling, but not a word of it understood by the intended parties. We finally got across that we would prefer to be dropped off where we were and walk back (which can be done by a much more direct route).

This afternoon we are going to the Ming Tombs, which, despite my grumbling last night, I am very exited about. Apparently we are taking a small bus just for us so I will have opportunity on the 1.5-2 hour drive to put a dent in either my regretfully large book or my sleep needs.

Freddie, Anne and I are starting to worry about our travel arrangements for next week. The travel agency is supposed to bring our Beijing>Xian ticket to our school, but we haven’t received it and are not even sure of what time our flight leaves on Saturday!  This is not a good thing.  I just tried to call their number in Shanghai but I had very little success which may be due to my mild dyslexia which becomes slightly more severe with lack of sleep and an increase in stress (This always works out so well for me during exam week.  Note the sarcasm, please.).

I have tried to teach my class The Bear Song, to no avail. They simply don’t like it. So back to Do Re Me it is. Thank you to my father for emailing me a version of The Bear Song that contains no grammatical oddities, references to guns or religion and still keeps the complete song in all its campy splendor. I regret that I cannot use it.

So I conclude with a very important inquiry regarding differences between cultures. It brings into question the entire concept of cultural relativity (which I may be so bold as to say an entire subfield of my discipline depends on for survival) :

How could anyone not enjoy The Bear Song?