Shiyan is not unlike Cape Town. There is a certain expectancy of what the weather should do, but absolutely no guarantee that that is in fact what the weather will do.
This last week, for instance, I have been preparing myself of the onset of Summer. I mean, after all, the Spring Festival is past and forgotten, the football field has started blushing green, and I do believe I saw at least one blossom on a tree somewhere.
In addition, since Monday last I have not used my heater, and since Wednesday I also have not had my electric blanket on, not even for a start-up. I’ve been wearing less clothing, trying to brainwash myself into thinking it really feels like cool spring weather. And it was working.
This morning I woke up at 9am. Usually by this time the bright of day is awash in my room. However, I had to check the time of a second source, as my room was so dark that I had to switch on the light. After reassuring myself that it was in fact the time my alarm claimed it was, I knew the weather was holding no promise of a sunny day.
And so it was. By the time I ventured out I was padded ala winter, plus wearing a beany. My ears have been aching recently and only heat seems to cure it. The themometor at the gate guessed that it could be 3 degrees Celcius. I wouldn’t exactly set my watch by that gadget.
After I finished my lesson with my private student, their home nice and toasty courtesy of their central heating, he enquired if it was cold outside (after seeing my apparel). “Yes”, I said, “it even snowed a little”. “No!”, exclaimed his mother in Chinese, rushing to the window to prove me a liar. “Yes”, I explained, “it was raining, which stopped, and was followed by tiny flakes of snow”.
I wasn’t so much convinced myself, because the flakes were really tiny, and they could have been rain drops, because I couldn’t actually catch a flake to prove it. But they didn’t fall like raindrops would have. By the time I got back to school, for some reason much colder than 1 km down the road, I could catch a few and prove myself sane.
I was doing some lesson planning just now and felt I needed to pen my thoughts. So as I emerged from my apartment, I was greeted by a white blanket of snow on the football field. Not a very thick blanket. Probably just enough to kill the new green sprouts and be melted by morning. But proof nevertheless.
After inviting King, the King of contradictions, for coffee on several occasions this weekends, being denied by him, only for him to go off gallivanting on his own, I realised I need to give him some air. He’s not my anything, so I shouldn’t really be upset.
One thing is clear though, I need friends. But paradoxically I am now scared of both men and women.
The women seem to want to be friends, more than friends, or not friends at all and will play games so that you will never have a clue anyway. Either that, or they turn out to be clingy, psychotic bunny boilers who think you’re ready to propose, because you invited them for coffee.
The few boys I’ve met have also been clingy, psychotic bunny boilers who want to take up all your time, show you off to their friends and ask as many times and as loudly as possible “What’s that in English?”.
The few sane people I’ve met are too busy, too introverted, or too bound to their homes and families to want to go out. Dancing, coffee, eating. Sane people always find a reason to not do any of it.
In retrospect, this is perhaps just the exaggeration of my lonely mind. I walk down the road, surrounded by tens of people, really wanting to talk to them. But I look down, avoid eye contact, and now only occasionally hear somebody say “heeeeellllooo”, usually followed by lots of laughter. I never knew the word ‘Hello’ was so funny.
Do I have a plan? No. What will I do? Er… probably hit on the teachers here at school. Is that a good idea? No, but what else can I do.
Tomorrow is my self-proclaimed coffee night. King obviously isn’t keen on coffee, or the associated social connection with me, so I need to find myself another coffee buddy or two.