China and the Olympics

We walk over to the edge of the park in the center of the town where the giant golden ball rises up on a pole. Not quite as down wind from the denim textile factory as the rest of the park. This town has less factories than other towns, so the economy sucks, but the air is good. All the money here is money sent back from the U.S.
The park was designed by Uncle Ning. The government never did actually pay Uncle Ning, one of the many reasons why he would gladly go to the United States to be a busboy instead of trying to pursue a career as an architect in China. What does an education give you in China if the government doesn’t pay you for a job you did? But obviously some people make it big here. Must be who you know.
“We have a seat. Me, brother Chiu or big cannon Chiu (a nickname his grandfather acquired for telling stories which got passed down, and Bull. Bull starts lecturing me on China. He’s in his forties.
“There’s plenty of stuff to do here in China now. I know all the tourist places, all the fun stuff to do. You want women I know where to bring you, beaches, sights everything. This is what I do for a living. But the question is you don’t have enough time. Next time I can show you around Guangzhou once you get off the plane.
I told you about that brothel over in Toi Sing, they call it the White House. I know all the sights, everything. Plenty of stuff to play in China now. Not like before.”
He pauses picking up a plastic bottle.
“Before, only twenty years ago, something like this, we would keep it. When people came back from the U.S. they would have to bring stuff with them. And even garbage like this, we would save it. Oh wow!” he says in mock surprise looking at the bottle, “it hold water but you drop it and it doesn’t break! So valuable! Why? Because before there was none of this here. Now who would be so stupid to save this trash?” he tosses the bottle.
“Now its changed. People come here to buy things and bring them back to the U.S. Why? Because it’s cheaper here. Because it’s made here.”
“You know the a lot of the old Wah Kew, the old guys in the states that went over when they were young, they don’t know. At first they don’t want to come back to the home town. Come back for what? There’s no place to go to the bathroom, they think. They don’t realize China’s Changed.”
“Even in me and Chieu’s generation, when we were kids there was no rice to eat. Right ah Chieu? We just had those…..”
“Remember the stuff I showed you earlier that we fed to the pigs,” Chieu jumped in, “that.”
“The old Wah Kew, don’t realize until they come back. Then they see allthe stuff they can do here. More than the luxuries in the U.S. and cheaper. Because the American money is worth more. Hotels are cheap the women are cheap, beautiful, and good service. I told you already. I’ll bring you down there next time.”
Brother Chieu started in, “now China can make anything America makes, for cheaper. Anything we want is here. The food is better hear, I saw Big Brother (their name for one of my big Kung Fu brothers who led their group) last time. He got some sandwich at the stop over in Tokyo. He couldn’t finish it. He showed it to me. The lettuce was raw, it had some kind of white sauce…. I’d rather eat shit!:
He paused dramatically looking off in the distance. “Last time, you came was the Olympics right? Now look at how many gold medals China wins. Next Olympics will be in Beijing. Everything is changing. China is becoming greater and greater. Soon China will be unstoppable. Number one, unstoppable.”
We paused and the subject drifted. Bull talked about the service at the white house, the many women he had in many countries he’d been to when he was a sailor, about street performing kung fu (Bull never learned Kung Fu unlike the rest of us) hunting, sight seeing.
“How is Sifu doing now anyway?” asked Bull. Everyone called my Sifu, Sifu, regardless of whether the studied Kung Fu or not. He had been very influential in the town. He had had students in high places and thus had access to commodities that were not for sale. A motorcycle before the local police had one. His status was high and people respected him because he treated many patients and worked hard for the good of the town and the people in it.
“I hear he has headaches all the time now.”
“Yes.” I said.
“Communism. I remember it, Chieu saw it. They had pulled him out. He had to say all the ways he had wronged society. You know the Red Guards. He was represented the old ways, you know. Back then…now it’s more open”
“Doesn’t matter how good your Kung Fu is,” said Chieu, “Don’t even talk about fighting back. You aren’t even allowed to block or protect yourself. You’re going to fight your whole village? Who are you going to fight?”
“ And they hit the head.”
“Good thing he was a doctor. Lots of people spoke up for him. If they don’t have a doctor, what happens if someone breaks their leg?”
“If he didn’t know teet da….so he was lucky”

My Secret Candle

A dim and sickly child of a flame.
Fragile flickering wick against the wind.
Afraid, let hot wax droplets fall afraid.
Within the flame, a stronger flame within.

Life

I can be very disorganized.
I long for simplicity.
I am a dreamer.
Yet I like action as well.

I know about the teaching thing. It was my original minor.
I should try to at least get in to law school and then decide from there.
I think I am needy. But I don't know what I need.

Love conquers

Structure and following rules....very stereotypical chinesee. (Stereotypical from the American perspective of Chinese Americans and the stereoptype of Asians in the '80s)
I often don't follow rules not because I disagree with them but because it is my American nature.
But then...my Chinese nature follows important rules, but not rules for the sake of rules. Am I Chinesee, or American, both, or simply human.

If I followed rules for the sake of rules, and if you followd rules for the sake of rules, we would not be together I think. We inherently break the rules.