Cathy’s Clown

(Everly brothers, 1960)

I got a problem.  Generally, I’m a very private person and don’t like to discuss (or have other people discuss) my medical issues.  But this problem is germane to my China travels.  About 1.5-2 years ago I suddenly came down with very swollen lips, making me look like a clown.  They were very painful and lasted about 3 weeks.  I went to my primary physician, but he had no ideas except to send me to a dermatologist.

I went, but he had no ideas except to send me to an allergist.  I finally found one and she said I had what is known as a contact allergy to something.  This “something” interacts directly with the cells of my lips (i.e., not through the blood), killing those cells, and the underlying skin becomes very sensitive.  She said the reaction usually takes a couple days to appear and thus it’s often difficult to identify the offending substance.

Over the subsequent year I was able to determine, with a fair degree of certainty, that my lips are allergic to chili peppers and anything containing them.  For a long time, I’ve been successful at avoiding these little devils, love them though I do.  A little over 3 weeks ago I fell off the wagon and “accidentally” ate a bunch of chips and salsa.  Sure enough, a few days later I started to feel the effects, and soon my clown lips were back.

This is nothing to laugh at, if indeed laughing were possible without extreme pain.  My lips swell, bleed, peel, etc., and they are very sensitive and painful.  This stupidity on my part couldn’t have come at a worse time:  I was just beginning a tour of 5 Chinese cities where I had to give 2 presentations in each location and also had several small meetings in each city.

I considered explaining my lips to my hosts but decided not to.  Let them wonder.  One guy asked me directly if my lips were OK and I just shrugged and changed topics.

One night in a hotel room the pain was so annoying that I put a small, cold, wet towel over my mouth.

The blue bandana is to cover my eyes so I could blind myself to the pain.

As I said, during this 2-3-week period, my lips are very sensitive to touch, heat, salt, and just about everything.  Even brushing my teeth was painful, as well as rinsing my mouth out with cold water.

During this trip through China, I tried to be very careful.  I WAS very careful, but at times it seemed the deck was stacked against, committed to punishing me for my many sins of the past (distant past, of course).

In Nanjing I was with a good friend all the time.  My first night there he took me to Nanjing’s “Confucius Temple,” which is not analogous to the one in Beijing.  In Nanjing it is a large, multi-block area that is ancient and mostly limited to pedestrians.

My friend (let’s call him Joe) is very knowledgeable about Chinese history and culture, having been a teacher of same.  (That sentence reminds me of Charlie Chan.)  He showed me this building…

…and asked me to guess what it was.  I tried but failed.  It’s a watchtower for when, in ancient times, people took the national test.  There would be a watcher in each of the 4 corners to keep an eye out for cheaters.  This was serious business because if a student was caught cheating, both he and his teacher would be put to death.

We came upon this scene where actors were about to put on a play.

There is a nice canal running through this area,…

…and on the bridge over the canal young women are wont to take selfies.

There are tourist barges that people can take (see their yellow roofs),…

…but the line was too long, and we were more interested in eating.  (Big surprise.)

I reminded Joe that I could not eat anything spicy.  He took me to one of his favorite holes in the wall.

Is she holding her nose because of the food?

Not only did most of the food look really spicy, but the few things without that deep red color were dumplings, and I’ve been trying to avoid carbs.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to avoid spicy food AND carbs in China?

Fortunately, this tiny place had another area where their specialty was being served.

The only male employee was making their special duck soup in a big caldron.

Joe asked me if that was OK and I quickly said yes, that would be fine.  Too quickly, as it turned out.  What came was a very mild broth with cubes of duck blood and tofu.

I wouldn’t dream of offending Joe, so I ate everything.  As with many things in Chinese restaurants, it’s not the taste that is shocking; it’s the psychology.  As long as I didn’t think about blood, the chunks tasted like very mild pieces of liver.  I’ll refrain from telling you what they tasted like when I thought about blood.

Fortunately, Joe also ordered some tofu skin that was covered with something that tasted like a dilute hoisin sauce.

I enjoyed eating this, as tofu skin is one of my favorites.  Unfortunately, my wounded right hand (that’s another story) made it difficult to use chopsticks, and I had trouble picking up the pieces.

As we left that place, Joe asked me if I was still hungry.  I said no, but my face must have said something different.  A few paces farther we came upon another of his favorite dining spots.

This place, he said, was famous for its bean soup (though he called it something different).

It was syrupy and one of those ladles must have held 6,000 calories.  So, we ate only half a ladle each.  The lady server initially was quite shy, but I was persistent and eventually got her picture.

After our bean-soup “dessert,” we walked around a little, passing this plate of roasted chestnuts (I think).

There were a lot of little touristy knick-knack stores, selling nothing you’d want – except this charming little shop of tea pots, some of which are very expensive, depending mostly on their composition.

Nanjing is a nice city; more on it next time.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

One of my brother’s favorite sayings is “You’re ugly when you whine.”  This time I must plead guilty.  (To whining, not to being ugly.)

It started on the plane, shortly after take-off.  I was settling in, had my Bose Q15 noise-reduction headphones on, and was ready to take a nap.  Then I heard what seemed like a Chinese TV program.  But my headphones were plugged into my MP3 player.  Turns out the guy (about 25) sitting across the aisle from me was watching a movie or something on his cell phone – with the volume turned up so he could hear it over the sound of the engines.  Was I the only one disturbed by this intrusion into my noise space?  It seemed so.

This is not a rare phenomenon in China.  The usual culprits are men, young and old, and for years I’ve encountered this in Beijing parks.  Still, I was just standing behind a girl on an escalator about 25 who was watching (and listening to) a music video.  Here are a couple of guys, strangers to each other, sitting in the lobby of a Nanjing hotel.

It was like dueling banjos:  they both had the volumes on high, listening to different programs.  Neither seemed to notice the other.  Yes, I’m willing to entertain the possibility that I’m oversensitive to noise interference.  For example, right now I’m on a high-speed train from Hefei to Beijing and sitting behind me is a guy talking very loudly on his cell phone.  Looking around, I see no one, including the 50-year-old woman next to me, showing any signs of noticing this.

OK, I’m finished entertaining the possibility that I’m overly sensitive, and I’ve rejected it.  Chinese people talk loudly, especially the men.  I’m wondering if it is partly due to the nature of their language, which has a large tonal element to it.  I have been with a group of Chinese people talking and sometimes they had trouble understanding each other, even though they were from the same part of China.  Perhaps Chinese have to raise the volume so the subtleties that enable them to identify certain words can be distinguished.  Perhaps the pitch range of female voices is such that they can be understood clearly at a lower volume.

When I stay in Hefei, I always stay at the a hotel called the Chinese Caligraphy Building.  (More on that later.)  The other night I was in the hotel’s Japanese restaurant, and at the table next to me were 4 guys, apparently in their 30s.  All 4 were watching videos or something on their cell phones, and the cacophony coming from the table was almost unbearable.

I would have changed tables except for the fact that all other tables were reserved for the large convention group that was staying at the hotel.  This was a convention of beaut

icians.  Could have been worse.  Still, as I was going up to my room, I was in an elevator with 12-13 young women who all knew each other.  Though they were not speaking individually in loud voices, the total decibel level was, well, YIKES!

There’s no doubt that the novelty and excitement of China has worn off, and I become more irritated with some of the rude things I encounter.  For example, in addition to talking loudly most of the time, many Chinese butt in line.  Other Chinese are used to this and neither say nor do anything about it.  Just now, as I was waiting to pass through the turnstile at Hefei’s train station, a guy about 35 and a little taller than I, tried to push in front of me.  I literally pushed him out of the way.  I’m sure he was surprised at this, and he had a few words for me.  Fortunately, I had no idea what he said.  And again, while waiting to get onto the Airport Express subway, a man about 40 did not get at the end of the line of 6 people but simply moved to the front.  No one seemed to object, but I tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the back of the line.  Instead of going there, he moved to another door where he butt in line there.

So, back to the guy on the plane.  As you know, airline people will distribute tiny earbuds to those who need them.  When they came by, I accepted a pair, and then offered them to the guy across the aisle.  He actually smiled and, simultaneously, his girlfriend sitting next to him (who WAS using earbuds) spoke to him.  He graciously declined my offer and took out his own earbuds and plugged them in.  Everybody happy.