Fresh hearts and old hearts

At almost 1am in the morning, the grounds of PGP still resound with merry laughter of students milling around in droves. Jaded and disillusioned seniors like me know that it can only be the overeager, overenthusiastic, overflowing-with-boundless-energy freshmen who are still filled with so much cheerfulness and verve at this hour. Ah, to be young at heart and filled with optimism once again! All of us jaded and disillusioned seniors were once bubbly freshmen, and we once also milled the grounds in droves, playing, laughing and talking.

We were once filled with excitement over the upcoming academic year, and each probably vowed to him/herself to make the best of every opportunity the university had to offer, to do great things, to reach great heights, or simply to score good grades. How soon these idealistic notions fade! Nothing is more easily crushed than the optimism of a freshman, when responsibilities pile up, when tests loom, when results are released, when your week stretches before you filled with hour after hour of lectures, tutorials, and saints forbid, six hour labs! I muse, not without some unholy glee, that after a year in NUS, how many of these carefree, laughing freshmen would still find life as bright and as carefree? Very soon the kiasu, stress-laden atmosphere of university starts to get to you, to eat away at your initial optimism, until you are left with bleak reality, and the sense that you must still go on, even though you screwed up your first year, even though your grades are a dismal sight, if only to finish what you started and to get out of NUS with that degree.

Still I can still look forward to the new academic year, and still feel excitement over the new modules in the next semester. I would like to start downloading the documents that the professor has placed on the ivle and read some of them. But this faint enthusiasm of mine is tempered by the sober realisation that the modules could very well prove too difficult, could very well go right over my head and might actually be the direct cause of several panic attacks and the premature death of brain cells. To the average freshman at this point in time, the new semester might be everything light, bright and sparkling, but to the average senior, it more closely resembles a battleground on the eve of a battle to be fought, inspiring only uneasy anticipation, tinged with grim bleakness and steely determination.

Beauty in Simplicity

Been reading a friend's Chinese blog. Really like her writing, with sentences that are so simple yet so delicately constructed and convey so much meaning. Now that is economy of words. Not sure if such an approach would work in English, because I am somewhat minded to simplify the paragraphs in my blog, since someone has complained that they are too long and hard to read. But sometimes I feel that I must give a comprehensive discussion on the subject I am writing upon, so the paragraph just grows of its own accord! Also, I remind myself that I should not change too much so as to compromise my style of writing.

Several graphic descriptions come to mind when thinking on this subject: Stephen King once mentioned that he seemed to suffer from diarrhea of the word processor especially when it came to writing one of his novels 'The Stand', which then had to be ruthlessly edited before publication. Another Chinese author 姚拓 had an introduction written by a man who humorously described a previous ill-fated attempt at writing another introduction, in which he '挤脓地写了三千个字', or wrote so profusely as to seem as if he was squeezing pus. Both descriptions deal with disgusting bodily fluids, I may note.

Maybe one day I will try my hand at the delicate, oriental style of constructing sentences. Till then, do bear with discussions of bodily fluids or other long winded and convoluted paragraphs in this space.

Go back to your research, you procrastinating bum! Are you not planning to sleep tonight?

Moving Season
It's the tedious moving season once again when all the hostelites have to move to newly allocated rooms. It would spare us so much trouble if only they would ocnsider allowing us to remain in our original rooms, but no, this would be too much trouble for them, and they have merely reallocated all of us to new rooms. The chance of hitting your same old room again is like, one in 2400? Too much to hope for. Anyway I packed up and moved last Sunday. Took me the whole afternoon to pack and the rest of the night to move and to unpack. The moving was less tiresome, because everybody came out in full force and got the job done pretty quickly. The tedium comes with the unpacking, of which I am only halfway through.

Tuition
I have this Indonesian tuition kid. Sec 2 and I'm teaching him English. He stays with only his maid in this luxurious condo while his parents are in Indonesia. Has a brother who used to stay there with him but is now in US, presumably studying. His mom flies over now and then to make arrangments for him, including looking for tuition teachers but then flies back home after that. Still, he seems a well adjusted kid despite being in this odd situation, and does not fare too badly in school despite having atrocious grammar which I am supposed to try correct. We have established a comfortable working relationship which I hope continues and hopefully he has the discipline to do the exercises and the reading that I set him to improve his English.

Work
It's menial and it's low paying, but I am enjoying it as much as I can enjoy any part time job found anywhere else. Being a waitress in a fairly classy restaurant means that you stand around in an air conditioned environment for several hours a day and serve customers with a smile. I am really pretty grateful that I got this job which I picked up almost at the drop of the hat, the day after arriving back in Singapore after the China trip. Most places do not take people on for only a month as the training will then be a wasted effort. But this restaurant, which was also conveniently on campus, happens to need people after some of its part time staff left, and so they hired me. Not to difficult, not particularly boring and even comes with lunch and sometimes dinner thrown in. Even the people around me benefit, as leftover food from buffet lines at functions end up as their supper. The staff in the F&B line tend to eat rather well, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. It's ok, I guess. The pay could be higher, but on the whole the situation is fairly acceptable, even with a sharp-tongued, hawk-eyed cashier overseeing the part time staff. But that is not as bad as it first seemed.

End of China Trip

My trip to China has ended, as all good times do, and the staid and familiar surroundings of PGP have never looked more depressing as when I first came back. Whereas the holiday was all about food, fun and sighseeing, now I wake up to reality of responsibilities, work and other commitments. It was nice to forget them for a fortnight, but unfortunately it makes it rather distasteful having to pick them up again, especially with the memory of those times lingering like a pleasant aroma in the air.

These memories have acquired an almost magical quality, that heightens the desirability of those times, and glosses over the discomforts (which were minor anyway) and other inconveniences. It is so much more precious, because I don't know when I can ever go on such a holiday again.

But enough with the reminiscing, and the mild regrets. The last thing I did in China was to visit a nearby hairdressing saloon and straighten my hair.

The first step was the application of straightening cream in my hair, after which he rinsed off the excess and took out a large pair of straigtening irons. Those were two flat pieces of metal, which he could manipulate like a pair of scissors, and pull lengths of hair between them. I could feel the heat on my face when he was straightening my hair, and I scarcely dared to move, for fear I might accidentally touch the hot pieces of metal. I ventured a question on the heat of that instrument, and found out that it was 106 degrees.

I once read in Memoirs of a Geisha the observation of a young geisha in training about having her hair styled in the traditional manner of the geisha at the hairdresser's: "It says a lot for civilisation that a young girl would allow someone to comb hot wax through her hair without doing more than whimpering to herself. If you tried to do this to a dog, it would bite you so much that you could see through your hands". I thought that I could very well adapt this phrase to the occasion :"It says a whole lot for civilisation that a young girl would allow someone to brandish hot pieces of iron near her face and pull her hair through it without doing more that wincing from time to time."

That was the worst part, I thought. After I got used to it, I had no other objection to the rest of the procedure which involved more rinsing and straightening. I was then sent back with the admonition that I should not wash my hair for 3 days.

Reviews were mixed. One said "No comment", another "It does not suit your round face". Still others thought that it was nice. Myself? I think that this head of hair is much more obedient and manageable, looks fairly natural, and on the whole represents a RMB350 (SGD 80) well spent.

The Hero on the Great Wall

I've been to Xi'an and back, which explains the inactivity these few days in mine and presumably KN's blog as well. I say presumably because I have been unable to check all blogs for the duration I am in China; I think it is centrally blocked . Maybe the government is afraid that personal blogs will spread rightist ideas, or porn, or anti-communist sentiments, although I do not think this risk warrants a blanket ban on all blogger blogs. I meant to blog about Xi'an, but that might have to wait for now.

Today we went to the Great Wall, and the Thirteen Ming Tombs. The Great Wall experience was basically steps, slopes and some great scenery. I mean that we had to climb, stumble and sweat over flight after flight of uneven stone steps, clinging onto the railing that someone had the forsight to install into the rough stone wall. Blessings be on that thoughtful soul! But even with that railing, it was quite an experience to plod your way up, one step at a time, brushing away beads of sweat that threaten to run into your eyes, and wondering how much longer you can last in that hot sun without turning into a prune. It is when you are climbing those steps that you realise why people say: "不到长城非好汉", or "You are not a hero until you have been to the Great Wall". But then you reach a little platform, or a pavilion halfway up, or a flatter part where the wind is strong and the view is great, and you rest awhile and feel recharged for another go at climbing those stairs. We went through the slopes and stairs of the Wall not once, but twice, at two different sections of the Wall.

The view from the walls are the sweeping green vistas of the local forests, but not particularly astounding. It must be the tragic history, the historical significance and the fame of the Great Wall that draw the millions of climbers. The Great Wall shows signs of heavy human traffic. Stone steps are worn down by their incessant treading to form foot marks on the paving stones. What was worse, some like to cut his or her name into the ancient stone, so that entire lengths of wall are covered in unsightly marks. I can't believe that people would have so little regard for such an important historical monument as to think that their names are worthy enough to be cut into it. Narrow minded vandals all. So what if they have climbed the Great Wall? Thousands of more cultured people have. Now if it was someone who had built the Great Wall, such behaviour might be more acceptable.

After that we visited the Thirteen Ming Tombs, actually only two of the thirteen that are there. Those are Chang Ling of the second emperor and Ding Ling of WanLi, a corrupt emperor of the Ming dynasty. There were the usual artifacts that have been taken out and displayed in cases, but this being a tomb, there was also a whole dishload of superstitious prohibitions imposed onto us by the tour guide. The two tombs we visited were buildings erected in a courtyard, with an underground chamber beyond those buildings.

A standard part of the Ming tombs was apparently the LingXing Men, or the 'Gate Between the Mortal and Nether Worlds'. It was just an empty doorframe erected in the middle of the courtyard, and there were no walls adjoining it. We were admonished not to hang around the entrance of that Gate, since it was supposed to link the both worlds. If one would enter it, the guys would have to step in with the left leg and the ladies would have to step in with the right leg. One also had to declare to the emperor that one had arrived "皇上，我来了！" and take leave upon leaving: "皇上，我回了！" The tour guide said that if a couple still wanted to remain married in their next life, they should also enter simultaneously while holding hands. We chose to avoid all that by passing around that gate. There was also a sacrificial table within the tomb, the 五供台，and the visitors were also admonished not to take pictures of people in front of that table, since in meant that that person was to be offered up to the emperor. We were only alllowed into the vault of one of those tombs though.

It was an interesting experience, which I rather enjoyed. We ended the day tired and sweaty, but we still managed to stroll around one of the main shopping districts before going back.