Part 10
The year of the monkey
Days follow in a rush. Hours seem to compress into smaller
units of Time. Taking it all in. The two towns of Lianyungang.
The smaller town so full of Russians. Giving it a different
flavor. And the bigger town, cramped with people. Trying
to work one's way in the only mall in town. And feeling
that the entire five million of Lianyungang must surely
be shopping at the same time.
Little memories
creep in. Discovering the happiness that arises from the
unexpected. At finding that the common has turned into little
treasures. A jar of mayonnaise. Or a slab of butter. Such
joy in finding these arriving in batches at the same mall
for the first time.
Still more treasures arrive. A visit from some one home.
Being a guide in China for the first time. I show my brother-in-law
the city. And see it all over again. Afresh. The Flower
and Fruit Mountain holds no snow this time. But there is
white of a different kind. Pigeons flock in front. For a
Yuan, they land in droves. Trained to perch. On your hands.
Head. Frightening yet winged beauties of delight.
And it's December.
The Chinese New Year is almost on hand. The year of the
Sheep is about to pass. The Year of the Monkey is to come.
Little stuffed monkeys dot every trail on the mountain.
Monkeys appear everywhere. On badges, on rings, on bracelets,
even on goggles. And I wonder at this custom at naming a
year after an animal. Somehow gives more meaning, to the
whole process that we call years and months. Which year
is it? Not 2004 or 2003. But the Year of the Monkey or the
Year of the Sheep. Not just numbers. I can only smile at
that which I cannot grasp. The meaning comes to tease, flits
a while in the light of questioning, but moves away before
understanding is reached.
Part
11: A Santa week
