Oh how I have looked forward to writing this email today.
I’m going to describe my day in moderate detail before attending to your questions and responses. It seems right to start by emphasising that a juxtaposition exists between the elderly village people that have joined me here and this hyper-modern, hyper young hotel. The walls are a sleek black and the seats shiny leather. It’s minimal yet comfortable and very, very clean. In other words, I describe my happy place and, from what I gather, my contingents idea of hell. The state of disorientation that I first (and still) witnessed might be best described through this morning’s breakfast. I want you to note here that I do not write the following sentences in jest. I console myself by acknowledging that my relatives seem to have an great sense of humour and might also find a few giggles in what I recount.
The first sign of chaos came in the lift: “I hate all this black it is so cold. I don’t get it, such a strange hotel” My aunty Janey remarked, distain painting her face. We were then told by reception that as we only had two rooms, we had only technically paid for four breakfasts’ (there are five of us). OH the turmoil this caused. To make matters worse, it became very apparent that this would not be a buffet. “They limit your eating” Aunty Janey had to say about this. There was a slight ruckus at the table and I was told by my Uncle Norman that “they want rice porridge and things like they normally have” gesturing to the Iphone we had been given with the ‘Western’ style breakfast menu on it. I’m not going to lie, the food was not good. It was the type of food that could only be made in Asia, the type that appeared like something we would make in the West but somehow missed the mark entirely. Cornflakes and cocopops on fruit? I think granola might have been lost in translation. I digress. The feat I was witnessing was far more important. 50% of my cohort picked up their forks with clumsiness and somehow made it look like they were using chopsticks. By this I mean, at one point one aunty stabbed her slice of (now bare since she picked all the toppings off) toast and began to eat it from there. It was at once amusing and upsetting to see, I definitely wished that we had a breakfast that had made them more comfortable in this strange place.
After this ordeal came more interviews. I feel like i’ve made progress and gained some valuable insights at last after a lengthy trial and error process.
The rest of my day was stressful to say the least. An hour to the warriors, which – and i’m not saying its not an excellent feat – was slightly anticlimactic. Between the time it took to get there and the minimal time that we spent actually looking at the figures and the fact that almost no information on them was available throughout the experience left me somewhat deflated. I was curious though, about this site and its history and so I insisted that we visit the souvenir shop. I don’t know why, but Janey was adamant that I buy a set of tiny warriors and it became increasingly difficult to refuse her. But refuse her I did, as I stood flicking through the one book of information that I had seen. “I think I want a book” I had said, burying my head further into one. “All these things are so so expensive” My Uncle exclaimed. I sighed internally. He turned over the book I was looking at as I watched him, exasperated. “That’s 150 yuan” he said. At this point I usually would have nodded and turned dutifully away from my desired product. But damn, I wanted that book. “Yeh I think i’m going to get it” I said, my body basically shutting down at the prospect of rejecting the opinion of a Jackson. I just thought, in that moment, that I was going to regret it so immensely if I didn’t buy it that I had to bite the bullet. I had never had to try so intensely hard to buy something with my own money in my life. Is this what it feels like when I tell you to buy a book second hand?
The rest of the day I spent witnessing behaviours that left me swinging on a pendulum between endeared and irritated, most of which involved pricing and value again. Ah yes, that brings me to lunch. We were dropped by our tour guide at a restaurant that specialised in the noodles that Xi’an is apparently famous for. “There are thirty different types in this region” my Uncle said for the fourth time in two days as we walked over the threshold. Did I mention that I have a gnawing suspicion that he might suffer from not-so-mild dementia? Cut to ordering, the waitress informs Uncle Qu Ping that one bowl is enough for two people. He orders four. When the bowls arrives i’d imagine it dawned on him that he had indeed made a mistake. Each bowl held a portion of noodles the size of a football and he’d made a deal with his wife that he’d eat the leftovers if there were any. Alas, we sat back, bloated and beyond satisfied with two bowls remaining. But this was not the end. I looked up from the conversation at the table to see Qu ping gesturing the size of the bowl to the receptionist. “This was not the size in the picture” was what he apparently said, “I thought it was much smaller and it’s your fault” – apparently Qu Ping does not like to lose.
Later, we pottered around a cluster of (ancient?) buildings close by amongst which were some Tang dynasty bath houses. Turns out it was too hot to wear an all black, polyester get up. It is here that I conclude my daily update and look to respond to yours.
Thank you for your assurance that there is plenty to do here, you really had me panicked for a second there. Apparently we’ll be part hiking up the Yellow Mountain tomorrow after rising at 6:30 am, wish me luck.
I did not continue to loathe my Grandmother. It is apparently exhausting to bear a grudge against someone who simply does not give a fuck that you hate her, for longer than one night. Take heed, my mother’s technique is to let me sleep on it.
On climate change – he has a point but I do believe that we’re probably hitting a normal cycle with far more intensity and a far greater rate than we are supposed to. I gather this mostly from the sense of alarm amongst scientists.
On the battery pack – fuck those people.
No, no I don’t think my Uncle will stick around, only that he will be immediately replaced with my aunty A Mee.
Yours hesitantly,
Kirsten
A little bit of a Hou 