Peep This

Here are a couple stories I have been writing for Matador.com:

This is my list of cities for singles and here is the "companion piece" about making love to natives in order to learn their language.

Here's what I have to say about late night food out there. Feel free to drop comments and enlarge my list of pimpin ass cities to be gremlins in ... you can't write them all down ...

The Illusion of Coincidence...

A great many strange things have happened in the past few days ... perhaps not as many as may be transmitted by the feeling that accompanies one or two strange happenings, but nonetheless ... something is happening.

I was sitting with my friend Himmler one evening. His woman Jodie and roommate Wu Tong were in attendance and we were focusing hard upon the twin challenges of the Primary and Starcraft. My phone was dead. Wu Tong comes into the living room, smells our sweat and says:

"sascha, call for you ..."

Its my girl, Yu Shi, on the other end, crying and very upset. Her dog had been confiscated by some cracker-ass peasants in my neighborhood. For those not in the know, i live in the sticks outside of Chengdu and for me cracker denotes anyone with buck-teeth, tendency to yee-haw, funny hair, smothered in innocent moral failings aka ignorance etc....

So i call up these peasants and ask them how they want to solve the problem.

They say: "Gei Qian Saa!" which means, gotta pay me fool!

Two or three dudes take turns on the phone. I can tell its an assembly of quarter-intellects. Discussing anything with crackers is tedious at best, infuriating at worst. I lose my temper after the fourth or fifth unanticipated yee-haw burped into the receiver and slam the phone down.

I call Yu Shi and be like: chill. call up your media people and have them meet you tomorrow at 11:30. I'll call the police and have them roll through my house right now (i was in the city, she was at my home) and we'll have the crackers meet us at noon. We'll tell them we got the money and they should bring the dog.

So I boogie home and meet the cops. They are pretty much useless. I should go into "China style cops and robbers" shit here but basically imagine a corrupt and lazy force that is only motivated by fear from reprimands emanating from the murky heights of the Party. And they love paperwork. Anyway they take her down to the station -- its midnight by now -- and after all sorts of bullshit, including asking her what she's doing with a foreigner (typical) they tell her alright, you can walk home now.

But these men are cowards. So i get on the phone and say: you dumb son of a bitch bring her home. So they do. (I know I sound like a badass, but its my blog suckas).

The next day the media show up and they are all geared up Spies like Us style. Its great. They have a camera in a bag and they pretend to be Yu Shi's buddies. I disappear, because my work is done. If a foreigner presses to hard here in China, xenophobia rears its ugly head.

The crackers show up with their wives and old mothers. A whole Yee-Haw gang. They say point blank: if you don't give us 1800RMB (250USD), we'll keep the dog. The cops show up. The media reveal themselves. Now begins the bullshit session.

Now a bullshit session in China is really something to behold. Logic and reason have no place in the session. Its ad hoc improv style arguing with the combatants bringing up Chairman Mao, the Three Represents, The role of the Peasant vis a vis the role of the Young Girl in building a New China, word play (by crackers no less ...). Anyway in the end, the cops say give the crackers 100RMB and take the dog. The crackers point to their mom and say: she spent so much time taking care of this dog. They point to the wives, they made special dog food for him. They demand a gratitude fee for not slaying and eating the dog. They haggle. All this is on camera, by the way.

The dog's name is Lei Feng, who was a Communist Hero: the model man in the socialist society. The cracker served in the Lei Feng Regiment of the 8th Route Army. He brings this up, gets emotional and decries the decadent path of the New China.

I am currently trying to get a copy of the report that aired two nights ago to put it up here. You won't need to understand anything.

On the way back to our house, dog in tow, a call comes in from another hysterical girl who lost her dog in the neighborhood as well. She says maybe Yu Shi found her dog, switched his collar, then lost him again. For real.

Yu Shi decides yesterday that she can't take care of Lei Feng anymore, because she has no time or place for him and so she calls this woman up. She happens to be a translator of English and German and I need a translator. We bond over doggie biscuits and tea. The translator might take Lei Feng home in a day or two.

Last night, another girlfriend of mine calls up hysterically and says her home was broken into. She lost her computer, camera and wallet.

Meanwhile, Yu Shi is back on the job, as a reporter for the Economic Daily. She has two jobs: to infiltrate the traffic police by pretending she is a small child trying to cross a busy street. The traffic police tell her that they have to first consult with the leaders before they can leave their offices and head to the street to control traffic. This is all caught on tape and reported the next day. Today there is a picture of those same pigs out on the street, attempting to do their job.

Her other job was to attend a meeting about the small protest in Pengzhou against a planned chemical factory that will affect the water supply. The meeting -- held by the leaders of the paper -- was to inform all reporters to stay away from Pengzhou, not to talk about it, send SMS about or do anything. Because the project is a pet of the Provincial Governor Zhang Zhong Wei.

International media and Cantonese media reported on it instead.

Sichuan is the epicenter of all that is cracker.

Meanwhile, my homie Boogie is back in town with his mom. He is looking ot me to aid him in a visa hunt. The guy we all used to go to for visas had his office in Beijing raided and all passports, including Boogie's, were confiscated. There has been no word as of yet.

A German photographer and an English writer asked me to help them with visas over the past few days as well.

Another Econ Daily reporter called me up and tried to get me to agree that CNN's "apology" for Jack Cafferty's statements wasn't actually an apology at all. I said: "Bitch we got the First Amendment!" Unfazed, she pressed on till I finally said: Yes, it is an apology, but I know it doesn't suit well with the nation's victim campaign, so write whatever the hell you want. She said thanks and offered to buy me dinner today. She didn't quote me in the paper and the headline said: CNN: "regret, does it mean apology or sorry?" In Chinese there is a slight distinction between some of these phrases. What they want is for Cafferty to kow tow. I just shake my head sometimes. there truly is no lack of bullshit in our world.

Meanwhile, my cats gave birth the other night, outside in the rain. I didn't realize until this morning when i walked downstairs and my neighbor said: hey, yer cats gave birth, pointing to a wriggling furball in the grass. I trip and take the three kittens and spend the rest of the morning trying to find them a safe place. They end up in my closet, wrapped up in my chupa -- a very useful fur-lined Tibetan cloak. I have two cats. The one that gave birth watched the kitties, while the other attacked male cats in the area with a ferocity I have never seen. She is also pregnant and gave birth to one giant kitten last night that died. The two cats are taking turns nursing the three kittens.

Last night as I took a break from all of this craziness with my pipe and some Buddha, a fourth kitten comes squirming out of the grass and mewls up at me. I trip some more and take this Lucky lil bastard up into the closet. He immediately went for the nipple. He is doing fine.

There is more going on. Really, I haven't even told half. But this is enough to let you know that this week has been very eventful -- and I feel the pattern coalescing around me, even if I am clueless as to its purpose, design or frame of mind.

its a high price to pay

It is now the second day of Chinese New Year here in Dali and the fireworks have subsided somewhat. On the sixth, we gathered at the bad monkey and blew stuff up all evening. There are some M80 types that we would throw into the small sewage-rivers that flow along the stone paths through Dali Old Town. They float a bit, then blow up -- sending water splashing innocent bystanders. we tied fireworks together, sent em hurtling into the air, then screamed as they all blew up at once. Here in Dali, cedar boughs were a hot commodity, they are placed in front of doors as blessed doormats. Eventually we ran out of fireworks and started hitting the bottle. Me and Tenz drank about three bottles of Jameson between us. Plus various other party favors. I began headbutting people and such. I guess i tried to start mock-fights with everyone, at least with my buddies. i puked all over the place. Sammy, for the first time in his life, held someone else up and cleaned the sickness off of me. He brought my ass home. That was two days ago. The price for all that fun, all the screaming and yelling and laughter and such, is two days of agony and suffering. For two days i groaned and moaned my way from one lie-down spot to another ... finally, today, i can move. my tummy has forgiven me.

The price is so high ... for the most part I try not to touch that much liquor and on this trip it has been me carrying sammy ... but sometimes a brother just has to let it all hang out. and lord ... it aint worth it in the end.

Babysittin Sammy

Don't worry. He is in safe hands. I have brought his gibbering ass home a few times now. Last night was quite amazing. We are staying in the old market square of Shaxi Town for the time being and it is really very beautiful.

This morning I walked out of the caravan courtyard we are sleeping in to get some fresh air. I walked through the old wooden gate and passed the ageless well with a cup of hot love in my hand. The sun shone down upon the temple and the theater, both hundreds of years old and carefully restored. The cobblestones were solid and fresh in the sunlight and people were strolling up to the market, placing tofu out to dry, stretching and sipping tea. The tres were swaying and whispering and the eaves of these caravan houses bleared out at me and yawned. It was idyllic ya'll and i just stood and sipped and smiled.

There will be a tribal gathering in a few days at the Bad Monkey in Dali as the Spring Festival inches closer. We plan on setting off thousands of fireworks, downing dozens of bottles of whiskey and chasing all of the women into our specially made corral.

Till then, I leave you with a few pics of this place and words of comfort for those who miss and love and worry about Sammy:

I wont leave his sorry ass behind.

The Delicious Slide

You can feel it when it comes
Voices cry out in defiant anticipation
They rub their hands gleefully
The party is about to start
Places everyone

One said it was a slideshow
Another said it was
Stones skipping across a lake
You can sit back and watch with a smile
Raise your middle finger
Moon the sky

When the reel stops, ragged and bright
When the stones crash and sink
You turn on yourself
The revelers are nowhere to be found
Those bits you skipped last night
The ripples inbetween

You burrow into your gut
You call up your friends and apologize
Their forgiveness means so much
To the silent waiting voices in your head
Without it, you'll never have another chance
For a good old Delicious Slide

'lectrofishin with Otis and Maynard

so we are snowed out of the overland routes we were planning on taking: the hike through Tiger Leaping Gorge to the dusty town of Daju and from there to Lugu Lake and on to Muli Gorge and the Daocheng National Park ... would have been nice but alas the snows make it necessary for us to re-strategize.

So i say we head back to Dali Town for another stab at suicide i the dark hallows of the Bad Monkey and a silver smuggling expedition to He Qing village, where i have an accomplice waiting. An 18-year old Bai silversmith with questionable upbringing.

We have had a good few days here in Shaxi, the last surviving market town on the old Horse and Tea Trade Route. First thing we did was hike up the old salt trade route to Ma Ping Guan (Horse Pasture Pass) a lookout village and tax collecting outpost left unscathed by the ravages of 20th century China. The path is red dust and stunted pine trees with deep ruts for the horses and raised mud walls for the men and women. There are a few places where smooth stone slabs have been tossed and turned by time. They were originally laid down by caravan drivers who hoped to keep the path alive even in the rainy season. Its about 15km to the village and we were quite pleased to arrive after 4 and one half hours. We arrived and were immediately escorted to chief Ren Da's house where he gave us tea and sweet rice ball soup with poached eggs and sugar. drool drool.



We walked down the path to the bridge -- the spot where caravans and local villagers threw down and eventually agreed on a tax for the goods they were carrying. Friday marked the completion of the renovation of the bridge and in this staunchly traditional village this means incense, chanting, cymbals and drums, big huge lunches, firecrackers and appearances by local bigwigs. We admired the tung and groove technique of bridge building "There are no nails here in the main support structure as far as i can see" said Sammy the Grubby Handed. "Don't quote me I'm drunk."

Anyway we went to watch the women prepare for the ceremony with dance and cooking. The chief's daughter in law was a skinny cute little pistol all energetic, darting here and there and screwing up her little freckled face. Me and Sammy were in love. Her husband, the chief's second son, is a super chilled out little dude with a white Yankees snowcap and Grade A Man Skills. They danced and told jokes and we were the hit of the party. The little girls squirmed and twisted their hands in front of their faces, stuck out their tongues and made wide eyes at us and then their mothers ... the older girls giggled and asked how old we were, the older women introduced their daughters. it was all good.

The next day the ceremony was almost canceled by a freak all-night snowstorm. But after a few tense hours the officials said they were coming and soon thereafter the women scuttled up to the Temple of Guanyin, Provider of Sons and Confucius Guardian of Filial Piety and Social Order to burn that incense, raise those chants and get them fires a'burnin. The men cut cedar boughs, wrote out the worklists in red ink with paintbrushes and chopped wood, carried stuff and smoked around the bridge, inspecting the joints and warming their hands.

Around three pm the officials showed up and all the men had a powwow in the schoolhouse while the girls donned their headdresses and put on masks of composure that kept slipping. Finally the cry went out and the whole village followed two young boys down from the temple, around the bend to the far side of the bridge. There was a furious banging and firecrackers were exploding everywhere, women sang nasal tunes and the eldest man shouted out blessings in an almost faltering hoarse tenor. The two youngins had a cauldron of smoking cedar betwixt them and two be-costumed bearded fierce looking fellows played the part of tax collector. Everybody marched past, a band of saggy old teetering men banging cymbals and drums, and placed a few pennies into the tax collectors pouch. After three crossings, the ceremony was over and everybody retreated back to the temple and the schoolhouse to have another powwow and prepare lunch.

Here the villagers took their chance to let out grievances in front of the chief and the officials and we almost asphyxiated in the small room as one villager yelled till he was red about timber prices, contracts and labor cost.

We ate good. Beef and lamb and pork and taters and cabbage and a lovely sauce and 'shrooms and all the good stuff. Fat and stankin', we hit the road back across the mtn pass to Shaxi 'fore the snows and rains made our stay at Ma Ping Guan a semi-permanent one. Lord knows we would have had a few accidental conceptions had we stayed.

We marched back along a muddy red path with the officials and one horse. Sammy only has a pair of Keen sandals -- perfect for everything but muddy mtn hiking. So i got a few laughs out of that. I raced the local villagers down the mountain and they were quite impressed. I have always been good at running down mountains. The instant eye foot communication is something i enjoy so much. It is truly a moment by moment life when running down a mountain and each step gives you a chance to improvise, look ahead to plan the next step, look down to find the best step, step, slip and catch, look up, jump and run, find that step, improvise, look ahead to plan the next step ....

we arrived at the bottom of the mountain just as night fell. We staggered back to the place we are living, took cold showers, laughed and went to sleep. More later.

me and sammy at the speakeasy last night

We are having our customary American Coffees at Salvador's this morning. Sal's is one of the finer cafes i have ever experienced in China. The food is great, the prices are low, the place is owned by a few gringos from kansas and colorado and run by an army of western yunnan munchkins, under the close supervision of Ping Di -- King Diesel -- a four foot little yunnan girl with a squeaky voice and absolute authority.

It is time for us to go. we are headed to Dali in the afternoon where we will meet with the owners of the Bad Monkey and other assorted devils and thieves. Before i forget, let me give you a rundown of Sammy's "disappearance" which began with whiskey and tramidol, continued into the halfway house and raged out into the streets in front of the speakeasy. The rest is legend.

"The Disappearance" according to Sammy:

"Super Cool in Kunming. This guest's opinion is what the fuck. not sure what happened last night. Thought we were supposed to get drunk. I did then got "lost" but i met a nice woman who helped me find my way here and upon arriving got cockblocked by the night reception whore who scared her away and then wouldn't let me into our vacant fuckin room because i'm not fuckin michael even though i told the cunt that i paid for the bullshit. So i had to rent 103 or sleep in the street which i tried but it sucked. i dont speak chinese."

I woke up in the morning and saw that sammy had disappeard. I spent the day wandering the streets around our hotel and chillin at Sals thinking he could find his way back. I eventually headed back to our hotel and was gonna take a shower when i found the above note stuck under the door of our room, 304. i ran down and knocked on 103, sammy jumped out, we embraced and it was all good. turns out i was in a drunken coma whilst he was banging on the door at 2am with a sceptical receptionist in tow. its not my fault.

Yesterday we spent lunch with Mr. Huang. He is my friend Huang Jun's father. Huang Jun is one of my oldest and best homeboys here in China. Recently, i introduced him to a sweet little Thai girl who was coming up to kunming to study. they fell in love and now Huizzle is down in bangkok with her. He is our man in Bangkok. Me and Sammy told stories of northern Minnesota and we all toasted to Huizzle. Mr Huang pulled out a doctoral thesis he wrote for his son, because his son has no time to do it as work is getting him down. I said Huizzle was a punk for allowing his father to write up this thesis, but i was deeply touched. His mother then asked if Sammy could carry a couple bags of love to Bangkok with him and give them to Huiz ... of course Sammy said yes.

i had a dream that i got off the subway in NYC and a chubby black man was telling me about the judo he was studying -- i didn't believe him right away, but he pulled some moves and told a story of thugs trying to take his shit and when he pulled those moves they backed off, made a phone call for reinforcements. They told their homies on the phone:

"Man, we gotta a Cain muthafucka all up in here, all like My Way is Your Darkest Fear ... "

I woke up then because i knew I should remember that line.

to A'Dam

In four hours, my plane leaves for Amsterdam. actually six hours, but i have an hour long train ride ahead of me. i just got off the phone with a woman. i'm tellin ya. if anything can spin yer dome around, its a woman. i am not sure if she is humoring me or subtly hinting that i should up and lock her down. its hard work, deciphering and such.

so. to lighten the load my brain has to carry around, i will decompress in Adam, city of canals and cafes, and prepare for my return to china. three weeks with my family has also been very emotional. my brother and i had yet another seminal night of crying and yelling in the Wiesloch slaughterhouse. our bond grows ever stronger. my sister and i have traded silly barbs, sagely advice and evil eyes. my mom and i loved and hated each other. and me and my dad stayed out of each others' way. as for the other family members, my great aunt and uncle are really a pleasure to hang around. they are close enough to love me unconditionally, far enough away to not meddle in my affairs. its perfect.

so off to Adam. where i will be spending the weekend with Alexandra Wiercowic (sp) a beautiful polish princess. when i was 16, i went with her cousin and my best friend, Filip Pawelka, to their hometown of Slupsk in northern Poland. She was maybe 10, and she would follow us around through the ghetto projects, staring up at us and blushing and laughing. she was gangly, but it was clear to all how gorgeous she was going to be. anyway, it has been a long standing joke between the Pawelkas and me that Ola, as she is affectionately known, had a massive crush on me. its easy to understand, considering how damn charming my ass can be. and now i visit the fully grown, fully operational Ola in Amsterdam. She has a man, so all you lecherous bastards and romantic fools can sigh in disgust.

and i dont smoke no more either. i will probably go to the van gogh museum, and see what Ola has to say about domespinning fox devils and girlhood crushes.