The double edged sword of blogging. Should you blog if you’re busy, or should you blog when you’re bored?

If you do it when you’re bored, then surely you write garble, dribble, the stuff that you waft about in emails to your mother, ie. things only your family would read.

If you’re busy, when do you blog? There’s just not enough hours in the day, and worse so if you need to sleep, like I do.

So anyway, last week was quite busy, as the absence of posts may testify. The school had a sports meeting, and as such all classes were canceled. They roped in the foreign teachers as display acts. King on his own is a regular attraction, but the two of us together are a full on circus. And when we do some sort of activity people pay good money to enter.

The sports meeting, somehow, was stretched over two days, and it involved a lot of running, some jumping, shooting hoops and, I guess, the Chinese version of junior school hurdles (where the kids duck below the hurdle, instead of jumping it). Upon reflection, the sports meeting was really like a fun day. There is a general drive for everyone to be active, and this aligns to that nicely.

On Friday the teachers participated. I took part in the hurdles, the kangaroo-race and also attempted to shoot a few baskets. I did well in the hurdles, and managed a first place. King was big mouth, but had to suffice eating my dust. The kangaroo-race I won by a hop and the basket shooting was just too embarrassing to talk about.

Saturday the school was deserted, as the sport meeting ended relatively early and everyone went home. Everyone. King, me and the gatekeeper were the only souls roaming the compound. My new friend, the manager of the local Japanese restaurant, saved me for fatal boredom by buzzing me to spell check her new English translated menu.

So I whizzed on over to the Family Pizza restaurant, which is actually the fanciest restaurant I’ve been to in Shiyan, and I consequently like spending time there. Not so much because if it’s Western concept, but because people don’t spit in that restaurant. And yes, they do in others.

Anyway, I met Josh, an America boy from somewhere in Texas also teaching English in some school a bit out of town. I also met Shawn, local guy who would late that night take me to my first Chinese club. And I got introduced to most of the staff, whilst sitting there enjoying my dinner which I received as payment for my hard work. Strangely enough, I remembered all the names of the people I was introduced to. I’m not sure why and wish I knew.

There are 3 Xiao Yar’s at this restaurant, Xiao Lo, Liu Yun and Chun Li. There are many more staff, but I thought I wouldn’t push my luck, so I attempted to remember only these few. Also, Wang, the manager’s full name is Wang Xin Ting.

After making a nuisance of myself, I finally left. On may way I stopped next door at the Japanese restaurant to say goodbye to Tina. She likes hugs. I like to give hugs. It’s a symbiotic relationship.

She walked me to the door and we bumped into 3 Japanese girls who were not on their way to the Japanese Restaurant, but upstairs to eat Chinese. Anyway, their names, I regretfully, cannot remember. The one girl said her Chinese name is something that sounds like Tizo. The second girl’s name sounds like Oats, and the third girl sounds like Oits. I need to meet them again to just double check those names A short conversation and exchange of working locations was followed by good bye’s and another hug from Tina.

I was back home not 5 minutes when Shawn rang to say he’s ready to go out. So an hour later we met in front of the only McDonald’s in Shiyan. Good as a landmark. We rounded the corner and arrived at a thumping establishment with pretty hostesses waiting at the door, accompanied by camo-clad, helmet-wearing, bullet-proof-vest-toting men who I assume are the bouncers.

So up the stairs we went into a relatively small club with music louder than what would be accepted as enjoyable, very fancy lighting, and very few people. So Shawn takes me to a table packed with Westerners. Great, all the way to China to meet Westerners. But they were nice oaks. There is Timo from France, fresh, only been here for over a week. There’s Anton from Bavaria in Germany, student who’s been here for 3 months I think. There was another guy who looked like Robby Williams complete with the tats.

Not sure, but I think his name was Mark. He was way on the other side of the table and no chance of hearing him even if he screamed. So I missed his introduction. He was with a local girl, they looked like a couple. There was another Chinese guy who tried to introduce himself to me, but when he screamed his name right next to my ear, my eardrum reverberated in a way that made his name inaudible.

There weren’t many people dancing, the drinks were prohibitively expensive, and you couldn’t have a conversation. I didn’t quite follow the concept. An hour later the party dispersed and I decided to walk back home, again – for the third time that weekend. What good exercise. And it’s about an hour walk.

At least I was dead tired when I got home and had no trouble sleeping. So, a whole bunch of new people I’ve met this weekend, so I look forward to getting to know them better.

Will keep you updated.