A little flavor, like the night we tried red beans in ice cream

from 10/1/2007

I like to wander. Meandering literally and linguistically allows for a certain flavor of relaxed contentment that one cannot find in routine dealings. I especially enjoy evenings. Now, for example - I have just reopened this journal site successfully and my mind is reeling as wine spools about the tongue beginning its flavor softly and then growing into something much more exotic. My roommates are asleep. I, however, am out on the town, having moved no further than our dining room table. It is good to have communication open again. I will most likely sleep until noon again tomorrow because of it. We are celebrating the Chinese national holiday and I bask in the knowledge that I can indeed sleep till noon without feeling like a slacker.
The other night we did go a-wandering. My roommates wanted ice cream. I was excited for the outing, and of course there is my perpetual sweet tooth.
Coming upon an area of central shops outside the university we observed the dancers. They are commonplace in plazas, with their portable radios and shabby performance attire twirling in semi-uniform rhythm. Surprisingly, they are not asking for money. They appear to be out for pleasure, however an odd form of it on a Friday night street. I appreciate their freedom to make the plaza their stage, though they are not expecting viewers nor can they claim the same grandeur and romance as in other plazas of Italy or Spain. Dancing for them is perhaps more of a commodity. It is humble and more real than on other stages. I liked it.
We wandered into a music store drawn to a man at the piano. He greeted us with a genuine smile and invited us to play. I have decided that for moments such as these, I must remember one piece well - just to play over and over again in each location. The flavor of socializing through music is one I would like to know. I stumbled through the piece before me. My sight reading is horribly rusty. Still, the man complimented my skill in the gracious Asian tradition and I felt that this was the kind of place where I could return many times to talk and work on my Mandarin and piano together. Not that I was overly inspired toward either skill, but rather, it was the way the little shop emanated a flavor I wanted for my classroom. I was drawn into it the same way as I wanted to touch the piano keys. Never mind skill level.
I want my students drawn in even though they view their English as unsatisfactory and their knowledge inept.
I had the chance to play a Chinese-type violin with loose, horse hair strings. I forget the name for it now. It sounded horrific, but it was fun because it moaned. I don’t know why I liked the moaning, other than it just added to the evening. Jessica said that we will have to come back with a camera. I don’t think I want to. The evening should be left as is.