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Went to the annual physical check, found out new problems on top of old, un-receding ones. Had a new revelation: I'm in a race against my own self, my own body with its ticking clocks. I shall rash to complete what I'm destined to do in this life, or rather, start embarking on it, before the defects of my body catch up with me, with my superior yet dependent self: my will.
Watching another news break-out about another huge railway constructing costs billions found out to be cut into pieces and sub-contracted to suspicious groups including one bunch of peasant workers with neither experience or certificate, headed by the figure of nobody but a small-time chef.
The TV screen showed a handful of lonesome great columns, which were erected to support the great railway, now standing uncertainly, nakedly with rough finish, in a bleak countryside of nothing. They were supposed to be filled with concretes, but now it's known their thick bellies are fed with not only concretes, but also cheaper fillings of gravels.
I suddenly had an revelation: I'm in a great race � against the giant turning loose in its head-long, feverish rash to nowhere but a headier space. We're rushing against each other for time: I need to get out of here before it catches up with me, before they catch up with me: its numerous physical, financial, social and political bombs buried under its numerous bridges, highway, skyscrapers, subways and other 21st century temples saluting the so-called awakening dragon and its mythical powers.
Beggars are one essential scene in the so-called rising China of the 21st century. Reason simple and straightforward: we're too many. So we have more waste, left-overs and defects than any other too.
While I sometimes gave to the old beggars, often run away from children beggars (for the look in their eyes � hatred, canning, distrust and aggression that akin to criminals instead of children in my imagination � the adult and old beggars generally do not betray any emotion in their muddy eyes), I always despised adult beggars with whole limes � why don't they go to find a job? Haven't they hands and legs?
But with the revelation of recycled cooking-oil from restaurant left-overs � so dubbed "gutter oil" as another ingenious true Chinese invention of the 21st century � it's sheer scale and sophistication, its whole system of operation as a mature industry, its penetration far beyond occasional patronage by nameless digs, appalled me more by the unspoken collapse of moral system in this society, than by its hideous products, I began to re-think: beggars and dishonest workers, which one is viler?
These are people with whole limes and functioning brain, who don't want to sit there and beg. They work hard to get the restaurant left-overs smuggled across provinces to be "recycled" into yellow-fluid that looks like low-quality cooking oil which they don't use for their own meals but sell to whoever what to make money the cheap way. Now, are they just ignorant people, dishonest workers, or monsters without hearts, or monsters who have eaten their own hearts?
Now I wish they just gave up their abhorrent trade, go into the street, sit and beg. And I'll re-think my beggar-giving strategy not as a charity but as a program to promote no-harm existence.Mom said on the phone: "Why do you even think about coming back here? I myself just hates I can't get out of here. I can't stand its backwardness, its lack of civilization. I can't stand it every day and every minute and I absolutely don't want my children to come back here, EVER! You're born in this damn place, and you actually want to die here?!" Her voice broke in a sudden outburst of anger.
I put down the phone calmly. But there's undoubtedly a hard bump forming in my chest. Then I realized that the last ditch of efforts of my mom in her life long battle against her cursed destiny is to keep her daughter from returning to the place she was born in. The bitterness of my mom has a long root, but let's just say, she's from a better place.
I had left the K city at age eighteen with the same distain of that place, and the great expectation that I was going out to the big world, the real world and I was never going to come back, EVER. I had made my efforts. I went to a top University of the country, in the "developed region", I took a job in Shanghai. I took an MBA in Hong Kong, I stayed briefly in the U.S. and I came back working in Shanghai. It was not my plan to go back the K city. The plan was to live in a nice European city, or a small town is better.
But I'm tired at the age of thirty-seven. I had worked double the hours than my generation before and perhaps ten times the hours than the average person in my parents' generation. And Shanghai has been getting on my nerves for a while. The maddening crowds, the unending construction, the unrelenting noise, the corruption of morals (which is no way to run from, actually, unless I run out of the country), and the rocketing real estate price that kept the house of my desire eluding my power and finally a CPI index that seems to be spinning out of control, that drove me to draw up this back-up plan to finally wind up an apartment in the K city, as an insurance against the depreciation of my hard-earned money.
As the turn-around of mind works in favor of the K city, I started to miss its blue sky (still much bluer than all most all of the cities in China), its abundant sunshine with pleasant climate, its mushrooms in the summer, its air at least fresher than Shanghai and everything much cheaper. As to the backwardness and lack of "civilization" as my mom calls it, actually is an ignorance in itself, but not malicious or harmful. While the local people on average do lack in the grace of manner or style or sophistication compared with people in Shanghai or other "developed" cities, they're generally considered to be more honest, down to earth, or even good-hearted. To be true, there're more than a few people who actually told me that they are so drawn by the city's lay-backness, the good weather and cheap price that they want to retire there! Imagine how shocked they would be, to hear my mom's verdict on the city.
Still, my mom's protest has revealed a startling fact to me: that there is No Way Home for me. The draw-backs of the K city might still gets me, with a good chance, shall I really go back there. Shanghai is becoming too expensive, plus too noisy. And the respective effort of me and my boyfriend to make a breakthrough outside of our jobs on projects with potential financial success may never born a fruit.
Just yesterday I had been mourning about Lily's destiny, that she has a home she couldn't go back anymore and she has no place in Shanghai. But now, am I at a better place?
But if there's anything I'm really proud of, I have a heart of a rock, and I'm in this life a self-proclaimed passenger anyway. Home will be where my books are, home will be where my pen is (or actually keyboard and Internet connection). So if I have no way home, I'm not on the way home either. I'll just be on the road. Keep the music on.
