china_doll

I'm here where and when I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be wasting precious hours on the internet when I should be cleaning my room. Cleaning my room why? Cleaning my room because in 4 days, I will no longer have the time to do so since it will be my first day on the job as something (no specific job description) in my granduncle's company.

Furthermore, I shouldn't be wasting precious money on the internet when I've gone way beyond my budget in the past two months, shopping as if there were no tomorrow. In the past two months, the money I've spent is equivalent to 6 months of my usual college student expenditure. There is no excusing the kind of imprudence I've exhibited lately. There is no wonder why I feel so much guilt for having spent 6 months' worth of allowance, especially since I no longer have any allowance to speak of. I have no more resources and my grandmother expects me to pay for my own dentist's bills! That was a reality slap on my face.

I'm just glad that soon enough, come September, I shall be living a student's life again. Yes! School again. But this time, I'm going to learn Mandarin in the Beijing Language and Culture University! Imagine me walking along streets amongst people that look just like me! Haha! What fun that would be!

I loved Beijing! I was there for 9 days last April. The chilly weather, the beautiful streets, the tourist attractions and the very rich history, notwithstanding nationalistic concerns over "Japanese forgetfulness" of their historic atrocities.  A scary thing happened while we were in Beijing, though. A Filipino family was mugged. The Madrigals. They were mistaken to be Japanese. The kid and the dad were stabbed to death. Only the mom survived. And all this happened on a peaceful evening stroll along the very well-guarded Tiananmen Square. Scary. It could have been us. It's a good thing we never ventured out that far in the evenings. We satisfied ourselves with walks along the busy Xidan Shopping Street.

Hong Kong is an entirely different scene. Our evenings comprised of walks along narrow streets and a trip to HMV, the music store. There, we had this funny encounter with a tall, dorky Chinese guy in spectacles and a red polo shirt. Lean and I were busy looking for the Chinese artist I liked when Uno called our attention and pointed out they dorky guy, to whom we shall now refer to as Oscar. He was listening to the CD of Garbage. Hence, the nickname Oscar. Oscar was banging his head and thumping his feet to music only he could hear via the headphones he had on. We couldn't help but laugh as the response which the music elicited from him was reminiscent of an amateur attempting, but not quite succeeding, to master the steps on the Dance Dance Revolution. As if that wasn't enough, to complement his ungraceful movements was a silly grin plastered on his face. It was so hilarious that we conspicuously passed by him several times on the same occasion, just so we could catch a glimpse of his very enthusiastic dancing to Garbage.

That evening, I concluded that Oscar spends his nights at HMV listening to Garbage, as his form of recreation after a hard day's work. (It's just one of the many stories I concoct about perfect strangers, who never have the chance to contest the credibility of my suppositions.)

The next night, we went again on our usual walk, and as we approached HMV, we were struck by a novel idea.

"Let's check if Oscar's there!"

Uno went in first. He paused to imitate Oscar's jerky dance movements. When he looked up at the escalator, Oscar was there! Uno's jaw dropped. "Oh my God!" he said in a volume audible to the whole ground floor of HMV. We (Kuya Raffy, Nana, Lean and I) burst into uncontrollable giggles and then into laughter. Everybody, and I mean every body, looked at us as though we were crazy. Oscar looked too. It was apparent perhaps, to him at least, that he was the object of our ridicule. In a desire to prevent any further embarassment, we ran outside the store and resumed our laugh fest in front of McDonald's.

To be continued...

Currently feeling: nostalgic