There will be no Shanghai diaries, as I have yet to come to terms with my place of birth. And more often than not, it takes much effort to stay upbeat. But I've promised myself not to be negative this time.
For the last ten days or so since my return from Argentina, I've been busying myself with lots of activities. Yoga, taichi, more yoga, more taichi, pampered by full-body massages, reflexology and occasional facials. With less than 10 bucks a session, China offers the best massage services in the world no doubt! Six months of dancing and living in one of the busiest noisiest the most polluted cities in the world takes its toll. My body is full of pains. My skin dry and flaky. I need a rest. A damn good rest.
Meanwhile, I'm contemplating leaving again soon soon, and perhaps for a very long time if not for good. As it takes too much effort to stay upbeat in China so it seems. All I want is to be myself. I want to be normal, relaxed, happy. But here I can't. Miguel, my milonguero friend, loves China. He can't understand why anyone would dislike this country. He should have! Sick of Argentina, where he lived for half of a century, he's moved to live in the beautiful south of France. Grass is always greener on the other side.
Miguel might not mind so much the fact that youtube is banned here, as well as many other websites, publications and films. He might even be amused to see lap dogs wearing shoes (4 little shoes on each foot that is) walking on the streets and having the fur on their ears died funny pink and tails apple green. He might just be a little bit annoyed with people elbow him aside while he tries to get on to the subway, spitting to his path every now and then on the streets, puffing cigarette smoke straight into his face and with cars and motorcycles cutting his zebra-crossings short. Without the lingua, he can easily shut out people's obsessive compulsive yelling in public with share prices, property prices, business negotiations big or small on the phone off the phone, spitting in between, with colleagues, dealers, suppliers, friends, girlfriends, wives, ex-wives everywhere anywhere. Being a Westerner, he also escapes from being deemed as a failure at 55, still a bachelor, still childless. However, for someone native like myself, there is no escape unless I get out of the country!
Nowhere is perfect I hear. But I also believe that there is always somewhere where one can be more at ease with one's soul.
Yesterday, I lied for the first time to my masseur who started to ask me about my husband and children assuming that a woman my age is certain to have all of them. I told her that my husband is English, that he is in London looking after our 8-year old daughter while I'm away. You see, after years of trying to convince people to no avail that being single is being free, that I'm happy with or without children, I've finally decided to tell the tales that please the ears. Totally out of character if you know me.
The other day while walking home from the underground station, I saw a white little thing flying out from a third floor window. I simply couldn't believe what I saw. It was a new born kitten being thrown out alive. The image of the poor little thing dying in utter agony still pains me so very much. It's damn hard work to stay upbeat with a day like this.
Meanwhile, I'm busying myself with yoga, taichi, tachi, yoga and planning a run-away to Tibet. I'm trying trying.
