This week Jamtin turned one. This, if nothing else, serves as an excuse to raid the photographic shoe box to dig out a favourite, this time from Gili Air (Lombok): the light is from the sun setting over a not too distant Balinese volcano, the subject: a shy local girl playing happily on the crunchy coral and shell beach.
3 Comments
Bringing my Chinese teacher to her knees (revenge at last!) We'll see what Mr Meniscus has to say about it over the next few days, but I'm very (very) happy to announce the discovery this weekend of a new outlet for my intense need to hit things hard with a racquet of some kind. I'm back on a court again, albeit one that's half the size, has a net that I haven't a hope of being able to jump over and belting (very hard I should add) a strange little feathered projectile that seemingly floats and screams at the same time across the net at astonishing speed.
羽毛球 Feather Hair Ball a.k.a. Badminton: in the land where badminton grows on trees (well it must, it's everywhere), where every car-park, driveway, park, side street, alley, doorstep, and shop stoop at some time or another has served as the battleground for so many Chinese people and their featherweight racquets and shuttlecocks. It's an incredibly accessible and portable sport, no special clothes required, which lends itself to both spontaneity and to serious sporting duels and can be played anywhere at the drop of a hat, by anyone, and any-old-how (in high heels if necessary). And the Chinese do just that. They're pretty good at it too. I can't wait for the next session, for some more of those outrageous rallies that leave me in a crumpled heap, weeping with laughter (or exhaustion), screeching about the parquet floors of the Kunming Municipal Fitness Centre or the crumbling pre-cultural revolution halls of the local Ligong University Gymnasium. Too. Much. Fun. [Footnote: Should I ever locate one of those elusive badminton trees, you will hear about it first here on Jamtin] I think it would be fair to say that after all these years of flying, I may well have acquired a little bit of a nose for airline pricing structures. This evening's flight research yielded some unexpected additional information. I found myself researching flights and prices between two Yunnan-ese towns to confirm for myself that they did indeed bypass the provincial capital, and on a route which would be flown by an aircraft only slightly larger than a Fokker Friendship or the like. For my Australian readers that would be the equivalent of flying from, say Narrabri in regional NSW on a direct flight to Griffith, NSW. For my non Australian readers, if you haven't heard of these places, that's just my point. My Chinese airline search engine produced the above option: a one month in-advance low season ticket showing only 4 seats left in First class (and with plenty of seats clearly still available in economy). Here's my question: Who buys a first class seat on a less-than-one-hour flight between nothing-town and nowhere's-ville, at least three (theoretical) time zones away from Beijing (ie no-one's looking), on a route that would offer, at best, a Mars bar to distinguish you, and a 12" high curtain behind your headrest to separate you, from the AUD $40 (GBP 26) fare-payers... when they don't have to? [Click here to read my friend and long-term Kunming resident Paul's local observations and comments on a similar theme.] [Additional note for travellers to Yunnan province: this is, incidentally, an excellent option for transferring between two superb Yunnan tourist attractions ie Xishuangbanna in the south and Lijiang and Tiger Leaping Gorge in the north in a very short amount of time, bypassing Kunming and for a tiny price]
Perhaps another case of Google Translate-assisted Chinglish? It's difficult to imagine how Western Special Pleasure (Xītèlè 西特乐) can end up being translated to Hitler alas Mr Helpful Sign Maker took his eyes off the ball when he plugged Xītèlè into his translator tool. He has left the cafe with a sign that's unlikely to do much to attract westerners to any of their western special pleasures. Question: What do Western Special Pleasures and Hitler have in common? Answer: Nothing. at. all.
|
Articles
All
Archives
August 2015
|