Having just logged on to the NaNoWriMo site, I’ve learned that the clock has started ticking… and only 14 short minutes ago… they must have known the night I was going to have last night and the slow start I was going to have today because of it – or more likely it has to do with time zones.
So, I’ve broken it down that I must write about 2,500 words / five times a week to reach the 50,000 goal in four weeks. So really, what am I doing wasting word count on this damn blog?
But something should be said about Halloween in China. It was pretty good. Much better than I would have suspected, and I would say better than the Halloween party I went to last year in Penticton. Basically my buddy Justin and his friend Adam got chatting with Matt, the owner of The Tin Whistle (a hip little Irish bar down by the Shangra-la Hotel, off Renmin Rd.), and decided to hold a bit of a ‘thing’ there.
Usually these things work out well for the simple reason that most people here have bugger else to do, and if they hear that a place might be a ‘hot’ thing to do… the foreigners become moths to a flame. Matt, said owner, also got in touch with the local ex-pat scene and advertised the event to them, so instead of just having the usual English teacher crowd we had people from all industries. In fact, I met a nice guy from England whose job it is to watch ships, or check ships, ah… definitely about boats.
The night was a blast. I found out that my friend Corey’s Chinese girlfriend, Helen, studied in Canada for four years – spending time at Mohawk in Hamilton, and considered going to Niagara College! I never thought it would be a Chinese person I’d be reminiscing about the 406 with. She also was able to give Maggie some much needed insight into dealing with Lao Wai (we’re a crazy bunch).
Tim also showed up, which is always cool (if not somewhat rare), dressed in a costume which has the double function of being his work clothes. He just took a second job as Dalian One’s newest news anchor! He even left his pants at home to give the costume added realism. After a few rounds of beer he broke out the guitar and between him and Corey we had some great East Coast/West Coast representation.
Eventually the night wound down (3-3:30?) and we all emptied into the street and went across the road to huddle around a little BBQ stand (the Chinese equivilant of after-bar street meat) and fill ourselves with bits of BBQ goodness. Despite Camilia disagreeing (somewhat violently), the chicken hearts were a personal fav.
It’s a bit strange (and Camilia’s disgust drove the point home) dating a girl that enjoys stranger food than me. It’s not uncommon to find Maggie craving random inner bits of otherwise familiar animals. She actually got me to try chicken feet last week, and all I can say is, as expected, they’re a bit boney. But it screws with your sense of femininity when this cute, beautiful girl turns to you and says, “Mmmmm… I really want to eat some pickled pig’s face.” (She just read this and confirmed ‘it’s sooo delicious’).
Anyway, my novel’s not going to write itself, and the fried noodles I’ve got waiting for me certainly aren’t going to eat themselves…