The little girl who stood behind us amongst the audience at the Acrobatic Performance last night was a torn in the flesh. She was as restless as a turkey in a freezing Turkish bath. Her mother was a young adult of about 20 or less. The grandparents looked like rural folks out for an exciting day in the city. All three were staring intently into the little screen on their phones which were recording the articulation of the acrobats on the stage below. Meanwhile, the little girl kicked our seats, struck our shoulder and occasionally, our heads. The mother yelled at her without taking her eyes off the little screen on the phone. It was imperative that the recording is not interrupted by any trivial issues. We turned around slowly to give the little monster a cold silent stare. It calmed her nerves.
This morning, another little girl of about the same age sat at the breakfast table in the hotel with a younger brother and her parents. The father, a man in his late thirties placed a bowl of soup before the girl, who sulked handsomely, refusing to accept anything the father was going to offer that morning due to some unknown injurious word the man must have uttered. She lifted the bowl of soup with a good measure of defiance and dumped it on her left while the father went to the buffet spread to pick up more food. The mother joined the children at the table with a plate of noodles. The little girl complained as she sulked, sulked as she complained. The mother uttered a few words, too inaudible to be picked up by me at the table behind them. The little girl picked up the rejected bowl of soup from her left, placed it before herself and started scooping it into her mouth, hurts and sulks forgotten.
There you go. Two mothers, two different outcome.
Mr Fever, looking feverish joined our table at breakfast (which I thought was inappropriate in view of the legion of germs under his command, - but who's going to tell him to go away anyway?) A hasty brekkie was the better option so we had our quick fill and left for the little van. Today's destination is the MARCO POLO BRIDGE also known as LUGUO.
This morning, another little girl of about the same age sat at the breakfast table in the hotel with a younger brother and her parents. The father, a man in his late thirties placed a bowl of soup before the girl, who sulked handsomely, refusing to accept anything the father was going to offer that morning due to some unknown injurious word the man must have uttered. She lifted the bowl of soup with a good measure of defiance and dumped it on her left while the father went to the buffet spread to pick up more food. The mother joined the children at the table with a plate of noodles. The little girl complained as she sulked, sulked as she complained. The mother uttered a few words, too inaudible to be picked up by me at the table behind them. The little girl picked up the rejected bowl of soup from her left, placed it before herself and started scooping it into her mouth, hurts and sulks forgotten.
There you go. Two mothers, two different outcome.
Mr Fever, looking feverish joined our table at breakfast (which I thought was inappropriate in view of the legion of germs under his command, - but who's going to tell him to go away anyway?) A hasty brekkie was the better option so we had our quick fill and left for the little van. Today's destination is the MARCO POLO BRIDGE also known as LUGUO.
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Ms Cao (the Manchurian tour guide) was in control. Mr Fever was feverish (remember?) so he was left to his own devices. Dinner this night will include the Beijing Roast Duck and everyone was looking forward to it. First, we were scheduled for a compulsory visit to the Tea Factory.
The girls at the tea factory were young, pretty and aggressive. After their gentle cajoles, we bought some tea. One of the sales attendant got into a nasty argument with Madam Malindo who had declined to purchase any. As their unpleasant argument died down, the girl attending to us knelt down before me to gently rub my knees. I was taken aback by this invasion of privacy. Are they in such dire straits that they had to resort to this? The gentle cajoling recommenced and before a proper sneeze could make itself heard, we were in possession of another four compressed pu-erh bricks giving us a total of six.
Just as we were about to leave with our purchases, the knee-rubber approached me for the final kill.
"Top up to ten bricks," she began. I did not wait to hear more.
The girls at the tea factory were young, pretty and aggressive. After their gentle cajoles, we bought some tea. One of the sales attendant got into a nasty argument with Madam Malindo who had declined to purchase any. As their unpleasant argument died down, the girl attending to us knelt down before me to gently rub my knees. I was taken aback by this invasion of privacy. Are they in such dire straits that they had to resort to this? The gentle cajoling recommenced and before a proper sneeze could make itself heard, we were in possession of another four compressed pu-erh bricks giving us a total of six.
Just as we were about to leave with our purchases, the knee-rubber approached me for the final kill.
"Top up to ten bricks," she began. I did not wait to hear more.
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