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Anna Overseas

3/17/2005

Women drumming in Nanjing

This is one of the pictures that I look at and can instantly hear everything that was going on.

I was walking through Nanjing, and just stumbled upon this group of women (being lead by a man with cymbals) who were doing this... drumming thing. I'm sure there's some lovely name for it, but I don't know it. It's all very earthy, I guess. They were all in red, and had red and green scarves tied to their drumsticks. They would walk forward and backwards, turn and spin, and drum in these very... set pieces? Not out of control or anything like that, obviously in time to a particular beat.

Damn it, I can hear it in my head, but I can't describe it.

I stood and watched them for half an hour, and they kept smiling at me. (It seemed they were smiling at me specifically, but that could just be my vanity.) It was so... entrancing. I think I would have stayed until they were done practicing (it's hard to say why I thought they were practicing and not performing), but I had only a bit of time to get someplace else.

I stumbled on another group when I was in Suzhou. They were much smaller, and obviously performing. (I think the difference was in what they were wearing.) It was subtly different, and I didn't enjoy it as much as these women in Nanjing.

God, I wanted to describe this in such vivid words, and I can't find them.

See Also:

man leading the drummingwomen drumming


I am blessed, simply blessed in my friends.

Always have been, I just sometimes forget.

First, I got this great email today.

I have a collection of books that rivals at least one library that I've been to. It's huge. It's every book that I bought for school, it's every paperback novel, every hardcover, I've ever owned, it's several things I've "borrowed" from my ex-boyfriends and never returned, it's huge. It's several bookshelves, stacked and crowded and stuffed, it's several more boxes, it's insane.

It's way too much considering I haven't touched some of them in years.

It's so hard to get rid of them, though. I mean, they're books! Books! (I went to a friend's place with Barry once, to feed her cat, and the only comment he made about the entire place was "How can one person live with so few books?") And it's not that I don't love every one, even the bad historical romances that I haven't read since I was 12. (But I have to keep that one, it was the first one I read! And that one, because I like the picture, and that one, because I think the story is really well done, and I actually have read it some time in the past five years. See? It has a transit ticket *from Edmonton* in it.)

It's atrocious, isn't it? I mean, I have no room for them, I'm drowning in stuff, and I can't really appreciate it properly anyway. Which is something a friend pointed out to me recently. "Give them to someone who will love them, Anna, cuz you don't."

(I ramble, have you noticed?)

I tried selling them to the used bookstore, but some of them they won't take because they have too many of them, and the rest they were going to give me a pittance for, and it just didn't seem worth it for such heart ache, you know? I hate getting rid of books. I'd rather donate them or give them away then get 1.50$ for 5 books.

So, I got this email from my friend Margery today, who put in the middle: One thing I wondered, if you would consider. I belong to a group that needs some books to send to a very poor school in India. They are learning to speak English and need a small library. Simple children's books right on up to adult literature is needed. Would you consider giving some to this cause?

YAY! Exactly what I was looking for. Thus, I am getting rid of stuff that I don't really need, and giving to a good cause, and I feel better about myself because I'll have less stuff, and will have accomplished something this week.

Second, I'm attempting to budget, too, because my lack of organizing in my house is reflected in my inability to handle money. And it's not like I spend it all on big screen t.v.s or ice cream or something, I just fritter it away on things, or spend it on my friends. It's awful, and totally Anna, and something I'm trying to work on by getting help with a friend for budgeting. We had a conversation that went like this:

Him: Okay, we've got your food budget, your bills, your student loans worked out... what else is a set expense every month?

Me: Postcards.

Him: ....

Me: No, seriously.

Him: Okay. ... How much do we put down for postcards every month?

Me: Um.... 20$, I think, should do it. Maybe 25$.

Him: On postcards.

Me: Yes.

Him: Every month.

Me: Yes.

Him: Okay. (adds note).

I like friends who just kinda blindly accept that sort of thing from me.

(Which reminds me... I'm looking for postcards from Places That Are Not Edmonton as part of my postcard project. If you have some that you're willing to let me send to other people, I'd really appeciate them. I can definately send you postcards back. If you're interested, please drop me an email. I just got some in the mail the other day from Germany. Yay!)

Anna stopped here at 7:49 PM

3/16/2005

Oh dear.

As most people who read my blog know, I work graveyards. Like most people who work graveyards, I don't sleep in a nice 8 hour chunk. However, unlike most people who work graveyards, I suffer from really weird insomnia. I have a hard time sleeping on the days I work, and up sleeping 16+ hours on my days off. Not 16 hours in a row, that would be easy. In these really weird chunks.

The problem comes in when I get phone calls when I'm sleeping. I used to be very clever and turn my phone off when I was sleeping, but I stopped doing that for some... surely terribly clever reason. I have no idea. Anyway, I *know* I got some phone calls over the past two days from people I know... but I a) can't remember who and b) don't remember if I'm supposed to call them back or not.

If I'm supposed to call you, could you email me and remind me? *blush*

Gotta go to work now. Yay tired.

Anna stopped here at 10:20 PM

3/14/2005

So, my email is down for at least another 30 seconds, which has ended my attempts to send emails. Thus, I shall blog instead. (This is yet another lovely way to avoid cleaning my home, can't you tell?)

I am feeling terribly guilty because I blew off a friend today in the hopes of getting more of the junk out of the apartment, and spent most of the day dozing or chatting online with friends. But after everyone else went to bed, I finally started on going through the 8 million pieces of paper scattered around my living room.

So, I gathered them up and started putting them in my lovely filing cabinet. And discovered something terribly disturbing.

The only pieces of paper I keep in my filing cabinet, except for my tax information, are gaming related. I have the character sheet for every character I've played since I left my parents place 10 years ago. I have every single submission for Fade. I have every piece of propaganda I was ever handed for any LARP since I moved here. I have multiple file folders for every live game I ran, and every tabletop game has at least one, if not two.

Someone save me! I'm drowning in Role Playing!

Does anyone else do this?

Related to this paper avalanche, I have a ton, a freaking metric ton, of blank paper. Lined, unlined, in purty colours, parchment, whatever. Tons of the stuff. Gah. Anyone have any suggestions on what to do with it?

And unrelated:

One of the conversations I had online when I was avoiding doing work was like this:

Dexx: They've got a celtic festival that started this weekend..
Dexx: I'm wearing a kilt.
Trouble: Right now? Cool!
Trouble: Is it your Utilita-kilt?
Dexx: yup... so comfy it feels like it should be illegal.
Dexx: kinda... breezy out this morning...
Trouble: As long as you're comfy.
Dexx: very... gotta get a couple more.
Dexx: Utilikilts had a booth at the festival.
Dexx: They were selling them like crazy...
Dexx: and after each sale, the guy shakes your hand and says "Welcome to the utiliclan." then a cry goes up of "There goes another free man!".. kinda odd, but fun...
Dexx: It's kinda odd - we walked from the skytrain to sheena's place - I've never been checked out so much in my life.. even coming to work women were checking me out..
Dexx: heh.. manager just came in.. did a double-take..
Dexx: apparently the dress code here is no shorts, but kilts are cool
Dexx: But since women can wear skirts, men can wear kilts.
Trouble: Kiltlift...
Dexx: or you could just ask...
Trouble: Well, true.
Dexx: but I suppose that takes the fun out of it..

IOW: Tom is very happy in Vancouver. Which is good to hear.

I guess I should get back to trying to get through this sea of paper. *sigh*

Anna stopped here at 9:14 PM

A ceiling in Nanjing's Presidential Palace

Yay toast! I found my guide book!

In typical Anna fashion, it was on my book shelf. I just didn't think to look there. (And my father is reading this and going "Yup, that's my kid.")

Anyway, looking at this picture reminded me of one of my frustrations with my guide book, and probably something that is true of all guide books. The signs for the place I was going to where in English, but the name in my guide book was completely different than the English name in Nanjing. Or was it that my guide book had the name in Pinying, and all the signs were in English? Either way, in Nanjing, the nice people called it the Presidential Palace, and I can't find the paragraph about it in my guide book.

I'm babbling.

This was one of the places I went to in China where I was again struck with how many of my friends would think "This is what China is". I remember how... pristine... the gardens were inside, and there were hidden speakers piping in Chinese music. I remember there was a bomb shelter inside, and how incredibly claustrophic that part was.

One section was this beautiful throne room area. The throne itself was gold, and there were these beautifully carved cranes next to it, with gold inlay. I remember the cherry wood on the desk across the hall, and this sense of awe.

But the real beauty, for me at least, was in the ceiling.

I'm fascinated by the way Chinese architecture is so different from Canadian stuff. Granted, a good chunk of that is because we're not really that old, but it also seems to me that there was an effort in ancient China to create things of beauty. Who cares if the ceiling is beautiful, right? But look up, and you can feel this sense of awe. It's not the golden throne or the cranes that made me think that the person who sat here was powerful. It was that someone crawled up on something rickety so that the ceiling would be beautiful for them.

I do have pics of the throne and the crane, and a few other things from this room, but they haven't been scanned. Note to self: Before next overseas jaunt, buy a digital camera.


As for my attempts to get my house undercontrol.... um... not so much. Except I found my guide book. Yay toast!

I don't know, it just seems like this never-ending task. And why would I want to de-clutter and clean when I can sit in front of my computer and hit "refresh" on my favorite sites? I just need some sort of ... easily attainable goal, I think. Maybe I need to take blantant advantage of my friends with cars, and get help clearing things out. "Okay, everything you already have packed and ready to go? Let's get it going. Now! Move it woman!"

I have friends I could deal with getting all authoratarian on me. *grin*

I was thinking the other day about travelling and how it affects people. My friend Scarecrow, who went to Japan and was the inspiration for my going to China, wrote (either in his blog or his regular site) how sometimes he forgets that he actually went to Japan, that he actually went on these adventures, until he reaches into a winter coat he hasn't worn in a while and finds a cancelled transfer from a Tokyo train.

For me, it's the little pieces of paper stuck in the guide book, the weirdly scrawled notes like "DO THIS NOW!" or "Shanghai has a Baby Bar?", or the huge collection of postcards that I'm trying to figure out how to sort. Those are the things that remind me of China.

But it's other things, too. Like reaching into my pocket the other day and finding my tag for the Maritime History Museum in Halifax. I'm often rather... not enthused about Canada. I love it, but I think it's boring and pedestrian. Our "revolt" lasted a weekend.

And yet, I love the beauty of this place. I love the way Halifax just... is. I was explaining this to my friend Mike, but he's been to Halifax, so he gets it. I just fell deeply in love with this city, and I never would have seen it if I hadn't gotten brave enough to get on a plane and go. And yes, getting on a plane to go to a city in your own country, where you know people, isn't as brave as going to China, where I knew no one, but it amazes me how few people in Canada have done it.

I really, really really, really really really need to travel again. Soon.

Anna stopped here at 11:16 AM

 mind the gap

A 20-something Canadian who used to teach English in China. There's lots in the archives about my experiences with teaching, with culture shock, and with my adventures in China. Occasionally it meanders into melancholy (part of the culture shock), which must be very dull to read, so you can skip that.

But right now, I'm back in Canada, and kinda determined to do something with the several thousand photos I took, as well as write more about China and other stuff.

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