Everyone along Linfu jie was looking forward to the opening of this new, modern convenience. Perhaps, though, not as anxiously as I was. The workmen were not in the least worried about our convenience and took their time. Occasionally, the oldsters along the street would stand watching them; I nodded and said hello. . .and massage in dalian
watched, remembering when I ran wheelbarrows on a construction site (some 35 yrs previously). One evening, while it was still light, I ventured inside: a huge open room with windows high up on one side. The men's at the far end of the narrow passageway and up a couple of steps; the women's about half way up the passage and off to the left.
The entire neighborhood had no electricity last night. It happened right after I got home, around 9:15 or so, and had turned on some lights. All up and down Linfu jie, only the street lights were on. People were out in the street talking; I was in the front courtyard for a time [chatting with one of the aunties], then moved back here where the kid was getting bathed. It was horribly, horribly humid. Not a breeze stirring. Sweat rose up out of my body like volcanic magma overflowing its crest, so I filled up my kettle with water and poured it over my head and body. This helped for about 10 mins. I went to bed around 10:30 and just lay there, a mummy in wetness. No rest. No rest.
The garden out back is indeed the dirt-piled floor of an old house. There is some of the brick foundation visible--you've got to step over it to get to the garden. Along my wall is the inside brick of the house, a supporting timber and the outline of a not- so-completely removed tile roof. Another two beams lie on the ground, kind of dividing the land up. Bricks piled up against the storage house--which contains cutting boards for my neighbor. No lock on the door, just pulls to. Pans and such strewn about. It used to be an entire house at one time. This back courtyard must have been crowded and stifling--four houses!
When I came to Linfu jie [later the following night], I found there was a neighborhood movie going on. An old B&W yüju (Henan opera) performance. I feel so dirty here. Dirty and clammy. I've spent nights wallowing around, feeling as if things were crawling all over my body. Buggie things. Despite the mosquito-killer coils that kill more than mosquitoes. It is true, though, that little black bits of something fall from the ceiling--er. . .the sky. Gotta empty the piss and shit. As the Beatles sing, "It's too much." The writer was fed tonight, or he'd have plugged away until whenever. Her husband brought it to me. Who knows whether it was in response to their earlier arguing or not. Noodles. I had to use vinegar and some hot sauce; it was pretty bland.cfdyypj1027 The ceiling falls more during and after a rain. Lord knows how much of it I ate for breakfast! I had to throw out a glass of juice for the little black & white pieces floating on the surface. The “street manager” came by last evening, gathering ID of house residents; she hadn’t been told it had been rented to me, apparently. This ID-catcher is parallel to the village headman--only she was a broad, large breasted woman who took up the entire doorway. Kamen (??). Kazhu (??).
The sweet-acrid perfume of urine permeates the room, even after emptying the pot. Do my clothes smell like piss? Do I? There was a fellow at the showers tonight who only stood under the water to have a massage in dalian look at me. 30 seconds? Then he left to drip dry--the favorite kind of drying off by Chinese men. I don’t know about women. The place was a little cleaner tonight, though the bathtub was. . .cloudy. I never use it. I keep hearing creatures in my ceiling at night--and big blobs of ceiling falling (that I can never find). My body itches horribly! I’ve got some ringworm on my right thigh. 6 August Neighborhood WC outside not useable yet. When? Depends on the workmen, we were told. Must be more of a private neighborhood project than a city one. A month overdue. It is so wet in the house! The clothes I brought in not 12 hrs ago are damp. Musty, smelly place.
The entire neighborhood had no electricity last night. It happened right after I got home, around 9:15 or so, and had turned on some lights. All up and down Linfu jie, only the street lights were on. People were out in the street talking; I was in the front courtyard for a time [chatting with one of the aunties], then moved back here where the kid was getting bathed. It was horribly, horribly humid. Not a breeze stirring. Sweat rose up out of my body like volcanic magma overflowing its crest, so I filled up my kettle with water and poured it over my head and body. This helped for about 10 mins. I went to bed around 10:30 and just lay there, a mummy in wetness. No rest. No rest.
The garden out back is indeed the dirt-piled floor of an old house. There is some of the brick foundation visible--you've got to step over it to get to the garden. Along my wall is the inside brick of the house, a supporting timber and the outline of a not- so-completely removed tile roof. Another two beams lie on the ground, kind of dividing the land up. Bricks piled up against the storage house--which contains cutting boards for my neighbor. No lock on the door, just pulls to. Pans and such strewn about. It used to be an entire house at one time. This back courtyard must have been crowded and stifling--four houses!
When I came to Linfu jie [later the following night], I found there was a neighborhood movie going on. An old B&W yüju (Henan opera) performance. I feel so dirty here. Dirty and clammy. I've spent nights wallowing around, feeling as if things were crawling all over my body. Buggie things. Despite the mosquito-killer coils that kill more than mosquitoes. It is true, though, that little black bits of something fall from the ceiling--er. . .the sky. Gotta empty the piss and shit. As the Beatles sing, "It's too much." The writer was fed tonight, or he'd have plugged away until whenever. Her husband brought it to me. Who knows whether it was in response to their earlier arguing or not. Noodles. I had to use vinegar and some hot sauce; it was pretty bland.cfdyypj1027 The ceiling falls more during and after a rain. Lord knows how much of it I ate for breakfast! I had to throw out a glass of juice for the little black & white pieces floating on the surface. The “street manager” came by last evening, gathering ID of house residents; she hadn’t been told it had been rented to me, apparently. This ID-catcher is parallel to the village headman--only she was a broad, large breasted woman who took up the entire doorway. Kamen (??). Kazhu (??).
The sweet-acrid perfume of urine permeates the room, even after emptying the pot. Do my clothes smell like piss? Do I? There was a fellow at the showers tonight who only stood under the water to have a massage in dalian look at me. 30 seconds? Then he left to drip dry--the favorite kind of drying off by Chinese men. I don’t know about women. The place was a little cleaner tonight, though the bathtub was. . .cloudy. I never use it. I keep hearing creatures in my ceiling at night--and big blobs of ceiling falling (that I can never find). My body itches horribly! I’ve got some ringworm on my right thigh. 6 August Neighborhood WC outside not useable yet. When? Depends on the workmen, we were told. Must be more of a private neighborhood project than a city one. A month overdue. It is so wet in the house! The clothes I brought in not 12 hrs ago are damp. Musty, smelly place.