I kept a notebook with me during my trip, and when I had free time I would write about whatever I was thinking in various places. This will take me a little while to type these up, so these will be in episodes. Accompanying photos will be added soon.
I am an 中山公园. In the spring I'm sure it's very beautiful- full of flowers and people. Right now it has a much quieter beauty- full of evergreens, stones, and ice. A few people walk through, but their conversations are drowned out by the crows calling to each other.
I am sitting outside the teahouse, listening to a recording of a biwa. I can hear when the player plucks the string and moves his fingers. When he lifts his fingers while the string is still resonating from the previous note. I think of my violin. For all my complaining, and the many many days I didn't practice, I miss it now. The bare, singular biwa notes remind me of the trees – without foliage, naked, exposing their branches. They are natural and random. Logical and asymetrical. Cold, but honest and elegant.
It may sound a little silly but for the my first two days I haven't eaten much Chinese food. For breakfast, there's a great little 包子 place I have been frequenting, but otherwise I've eaten Korea, American, and now Italian. Yesterday, the Korean place was one that Ting's friend recommended, and Pizza Hut because Ting confessed she really wanted to go there. Today I'm at a surprisingly inexpensive Italian place nearby my hostel because I've secretely been imagining spagetti and it's only 10 块 here.
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