Take 2

In an effort to re-cooperate from my second cold since arriving in Guangzhou, I thought a good Chinese herbal massage was in order.  I returned home far worse than I left it.  Only that night when I took a shower, did I see how intense my massage had been.  My entire back was covered in bruises.  For two days, the pain was too intense to even lean on my back, let alone lay down.  Now, a week later, I have mostly healed--I've become a nice shade of yellow.  People here say I shouldn't give up on massages, just find a place that is less traditional.  I think it will take several more weeks of healing before I will consider their advice.

Last Monday, Hazel acquired her first pets.  We ventured to the "pet market," where I was anticipating throngs of people, loud streets, and desperate efforts to keep Hazel in sight.  Instead I found a somewhat depressed area, a busy neighborhood, but a pretty sleepy market.  Dozens of fish shops all carrying the exact same things for the exact same prices.  No one cared much to help us, but despite the slim pickings, we managed to get home with a fish tank and 9 pet fish.  As we journeyed home, I fortunately thought to tell Hazel that you never know how old a fish is when you buy it, so some of these fish may have already lived most of their lives.  In less than a week, we lost 4 of our new friends to old age.  But since "all drains lead to the Ocean," Hazel wasn't too sad to flush them down the toilet.

I travel almost exclusively by taxi.  The rides are pretty cheap, but catching a taxi isn't necessarily an easy task.  Drivers make more money if they can do lots of short runs instead of longer ones.  I also think they prefer customers whom they can easily speak with.  So, as I seek to journey around the city, I'm often stuck waiting as open taxis drive by.  And then when I get one to stop, it isn't a surprise anymore for a driver to tell me I want to go too far, and then wait for me to get out.

I found a wet market in my neighborhood.  This is where I can buy fresh produce, meat, and eggs.  Though I doubt I will ever buy meat there, it is a fun place to people watch.  Old women haggling over cuts of meat, squeezing the pieces to see how thick they are, holding it close to their nose, perhaps in an effort to gauge its freshness.  If they want it really fresh, the next aisle has cages of live chickens for purchase.  I took Hazel there today.  She is now a self proclaimed vegetarian, though I think this phase will pass by morning--unless she doesn't realize that the bacon she has been eating every morning for breakfast is in fact meat.
 
Chinese names and English names are vastly different.  Accordingly, Chinese people who speak English often give themselves an English name.  At work, we call the Chinese staff by their English names, which range from typical names such as Sharon or Elaine to atypical names such as Candy, Cherry, or Circle.  Hazel's friends at school also have English names.  One child's parents named their son Pervert, because they liked the sounds of it.  The poor English teacher had to pull them aside and explain why it was unacceptable for their son to be called Pervert.

There is much here that makes me smile, and much more that makes me wonder.  With all the strange and different that I encounter, I am constantly reminded of the need for civility and compassion in my interactions--reminded, particularly, by abundant examples of the opposite.