scruta

[Ferret is on his way to a show with Goose to go see a show by a hip-hop has-been. As they walk up to the club, they see Two Drunken Laowai and Two Bums standing face to face making far too much noise. Their rantings become clearer as Ferret and Goose get closer:]

Drunken Laowai #1

Fuck off!

Bum #1

Fa-cof-fa!

Bum #2

Fa-cof-a! Fa-cof-fa!

Drunken Laowai #2

[gesturing rudely away]

No! Fuck off! Don’t you understand? Fuck off!

Drunken Laowai #1

Fuck off!

Bum #1 and Bum #2

[in unison]

Fu-cof-fa!

[The two pairs square off, screaming “Fuck off” back and forth, obtaining a cadence as if the Two Drunken Laowai were teaching the Two Bums a class in English pronunciation. The Two Drunken Laowai become more frustrated, while the Two Bums become more and more exhilarated. Ferret and Goose walk by, chuckling, and commenting soon after:]

Ferret

Those guys just don’t understand.

Goose

What d’you mean?

Ferret

I mean, it doesn’t matter what you say to those bums. They have no shame. It’s all a game to them. You could tell them to “Fuck off” in perfect Chinese, but they’ll still just laugh at you and ask you for money. That’s the point. You have no choice but to pretend that they don’t exist.

Goose

Yeah. Those drunken dudes kind’ve look like idiots.

Ferret

That’s the funniest part. The bums’ revenge so to speak, by getting a rise out of those guys, the whole thing becomes a joke on them. It makes it look like those drunken laowai have no shame, either. Screaming “Fuck Off” over and over on a street corner in the middle of the night.

I imagined that Shanghai was a colt on the verge of becoming a stallion.

Yes, there was much talk in the past about leaving him as a gelding, a workhorse and nothing more. But this idea was soon dropped. We were all too well aware of Shanghai’s potential.

Many had tried to tame him, but nobody could do it. It’s not because he was too vicious, well, at least not at first. That was the thing that made Shanghai impossible to tame. To the rider who had never known him, he would appear to be tamed at first, calm and placid, civil in the utmost, or as civil as a stallion can be. He wore a saddle comfortably, and did not fight when his handlers threw it on his back. At the most, he would let out a casual snort; he would drag an idle hoof in the dirt, but that was all.

The most courageous of men would approach him, and hop into his saddle, wondering what the fuss was all about. They would set out at an even trot into the middle of the large pen where he was kept, grinning and stinking with an air of confidence. It was at this moment that Shanghai turned wild, as if possessed by a demon.

The powerful animal would heave his entire frame forward and backward, lurching, kicking, twisting, doing everything in its power to heave the rider from his back. Most of the time, this sudden change in behavior was so unexpected that the rider was instantly thrown from the horse, leaving his life in the hands of fate. Even if he did walk away from the pen, the rider’s confidence would be shaken, and chances were that he would refuse to ride Shanghai again.

They would mutter: “Shanghai you bastard, you beast, you hellspawn, you horse of the apocalypse. Curse the mare who gave you life. Curse these handlers who tend to you. May your hooves crack and rot. May you break your leg and fall lame with no one to put you out of your misery, except the bands of ravenous wolves already feasting on your flesh.”

Yet if you followed these men, years later when they found themselves in different pastures, at the mention of the great animal, they would only smile, look towards the sky and exhale: “Shanghai. Shanghai. Shanghai…”

I dreamed that Shanghai was a woman in a white dress, and I took her out for dinner. She wasn’t a pretty girl, but she had style, and was well built in all the right places. Sometimes she would smile strangely with a kind of tentative haughtiness as if she knew the world looked to her, but she didn’t have anything prepared to say. The dinner went well, and we laughed over a bottle of wine. I talked about my old girlfriends, women etched on the back of my brain in a giant mural, all of them holding hands and dancing in the park of an immense city that holographically defied perspective, depicting all the places I’d loved them and all the dreams that came floating out of our heads as we made love. Shanghai spoke about the one boyfriend she’d had briefly, elusively. I had the feeling the breakup was not mutual, or perhaps they hadn’t broken up officially and she was still dating him. She must have defied a great deal of expectations to come out on this dinner of seared steaks and finely boiled pastas.

Later that night we made love, and afterward I found myself immensely satisfied and suddenly thrown deep into a dream in a dream. Shanghai was a pretty girl now, and she was haughty in a way that indicated she wanted to say something. She spoke, “I don’t need you.”

Misinogist – n. a person who hates China

[Ferret is walking home from a bar in the French Concession near the American Consulate. As he walks by the Consulate, he notices that at the entrance there is a white guy flailing his arms around strangely, directly in front of the Guards from the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) on duty near the entrance. Ferret walks up closer to get a better look. He sees that the white guy, a Drunken Misinogist is doing kungfu in front of the very confused PLA guards. There is a Policeman looking at the Drunken Misinogist and talking on his walkie-talkie. The Drunken Misinogist remains unphased. Ferret walks up to a PLA Guard to ask him if he knows what is going on.]

Ferret

[pointing on the Drunken Misinogist]

他在干什么？

What is he doing?

PLA Guard

Good evening, sir. Please don’t be waiting here.

Ferret

好的，可是他在干什么？在这里多少时间？

Okay, but what is he doing? How long has he been here?

PLA Guard

[realizing that Ferret is speaking to him in Chinese:]

哦，我－我真不知道。在这里十分钟左右。

Oh, I- I really don’t know. He’s been here about ten minutes.

[The Drunken Misinogist realizes that Ferret and the PLA Guard are talking about him. The Drunken Misinogist points at Ferret and shouts:]

Drunken Misinogist

Traitor! Traitor! I know you can speak English!

[Ferret looks at the Drunken Misinogist with amusement. The Drunken Misinogist begins to do his strange kungfu in front of the PLA Guards again.]

PLA Guard

对不起，你可不可以帮助我们把他走？

I’m sorry, but can you help us make him go?

Ferret

[really not wanting to get involved]

不好意思，可是他喝醉了。没办法。

Sorry, but he’s drunk. There’s nothing I can do.

[Ferret shrugs, turns around and walks home.]

Give yourself to warmer nights that drizzle on your tounge

Feel the pavement scuff the soles of your shoes

As the taxis fly by with lulling passengers

And the construction workers toil through the night

Tunneling around, beneath, between your feet

And Huaihai Road never ends

***

Give your mind to the flashing-light shoptowns

Let your judgment slide with the icicle lights

As the bottle of booze in your hand grows lighter

And you feel like the street could become a runway

And Huaihai Road never ends

***

Give yourself to those thoughts of home

Where you once uttered words that meant more

Than the friction of two strangers passing

Comparing the marks on their hides

And Huaihai Road never ends, Huaihai Road never ends.

[It’s the middle of the night. It’s Friday night, but Ferret is trying to get some sleep because he has to get up early the next day. Suddenly, a loud crash outside his window wakes him up. He figures that it was something someone had thrown from their window that hit a car (this happens often at his apartment complex). It’s none of his concern. He tries to go back to sleep.

Several minutes later, just as Ferret begins to doze off, he hears commotion outside and the sound of police on their walkie-talkies. He gets up and looks out of his back balcony to see the body of a man laying underneath a truck, covered in blood and convulsing as it gasps for air. Policemen circle the body, trying to figure out what to do. Ferret isn’t sure he can believe what he is seeing. He goes back inside, gets dressed, and then heads out into the street to get a better look.

When Ferret gets there, he sees the body of The Man folded up under the bottom of the truck. His right leg is pretzeled over the left. There is a pool of blood collecting underneath his head, flowing slowly down the pitched concrete. He sputters every once in a while, gasping for breath. On his way down, he had hit the corner of a truck, ripping off its right side-view mirror. Pieces of it lay scattered around the man’s body. Ferret looks over at the Security Guard who found The Man. He shoots him a look of helpless resignation, perturbed by the events that have taken place. After another minute of looking, Ferret turns around and walks away. As he walks, he sees Two Young Men stick their heads out of the fourth floor of an apartment tower. One of them speaks to the other:]

Young Man

什么发生了？

What’s happened?

Ferret

[overhearing and calling up to them]

一个人自杀了。他跳下来。

A person killed himself. He jumped.

Young Man

男的女的？

Man or woman?

Ferret

男的。

A man.

[Ferret turns to walk inside. He realizes that The Man isn’t quite dead, and that he told the bystanders that he was. But there’s no way he’d make it. There was too much blood. On the way back in Ferret notices a giant duvet crumpled up on the top of a car hood. Was the man trying to take in his hanging laundry and fell? Did he try to kill himself after all? Or had that fallen from somebody else’s laundry? There was no way to know.

Ferret is shook up. He goes inside and calls a friend to tell him what’s happened. He chats online with others. Fifteen minutes later, he hears screaming and wailing outside. He glances out the window to see that The Next of Kin has arrived. The Policemen hold her back from the scene. Soon an ambulance arrives. The Man isn’t breathing anymore.]

[Ferret is on the bus on his way home from dinner with friends. The bus driver is crazed, catapulting the 20 ton piece of metal through the Central Huaihai Road’s busiest shopping district. At one traffic light, he pounces on the accelerator, lurching the bus forward into action, only to slam on the breaks as an equally crazed bus driver runs the red light. They nearly collide. Everyone on the bus mutters indictments under their breath. Ferret‘s life flashes before his eyes, and he finds it utterly disappointing, yet full of beautiful vistas and extraordinary sights, like a Hollywood film that one remembers for the cinematography and little else. The bus continues at its breakneck speed, and soon he is ready to get off at his stop. He walks to the bus door as the bus is slowing down. The driver slams on the breaks.]

Ferret

[As he grabs hold of something to keep himself from being launched:]

Oh, my God!

Chinese Man Getting Off the Bus

哦！你的发音这么好！

Oh! Your pronunciation is very good.

Ferret

真的吗？

Really?

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

真的。你是哪国家的？美国？英国？

Really. Where are you from? America? England?

Ferret

美国。

America.

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

啊！你的发音比英国BBC主持人的好多！

Oh! Your pronunciation is better than a BBC Newsbroadcaster’s!

Ferret

你觉得吗？

You think so?

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

对呀！啊，你觉得你的发音怎么样？

Yeah! Hey, what you do you think your pronunciation is like?

Ferret

我觉得我的还可以的。这是那个第一次一个人告诉我我的发音那么好。

I think it’s okay. This is the first time anyone ever said that my pronunciation is that good.

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

非常好!

It’s really good.

Ferret

你的普通话说得很好。

You speak Mandarin really well.

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

当然，我是中国人。

Of course, I’m Chinese.

Ferret

可是你不是上海人吗？

But, aren’t you Shanghainese?

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

是的。

Yes.

Ferret

所以普通话不是你的－

So Mandarin isn’t your –

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

[rather dismissively, as they part ways and Ferret walks into a coffee shop on the side of the road

对对对。

Yes, yes, yes.

Ferret

Oh, okay. 再见。

Oh, okay. Goodbye.

Chinese Man Who Got Off the Bus

再见。

Goodbye.

Spring is at the door here in Shanghai, and this past weekend proved to be a lovely one full of sunshine and mild temperatures. As a result, I decided to have lunch outside at Zhongshan Park, one of the biggest and most bustling parks in the city.

On a weekend like this, the air is full with the scolding of grandparents scuttling after their impish grandchildren, the stately, meandering wail of performers playing traditional Chinese music and the thump of recordings played in the far square where public dances are held. If the wind is up at all, there are always the kites. The central green is completely full of people of all ages angling for a spot to send their kite skyward, as families of three generations look on.

I was suddenly fascinated by the view of the kites in the sky. They seemed to encapsulate the excitement I felt walking around in the sudden good weather. My spirits were flying high, and so were they. As I stood near the edge of the green and looked at them, I heard the sound of a whistle trilling in short, loud bursts. It was a coming from a groundskeeper, walking through the crowds, waving his arms while blowing, trying to get them to move off the green. He had a helpless, yet determined look on his face. As if he knew that he wasn’t going to get anyone to move, but he had to keep trying. He didn’t know what else to do.

I noticed that there was a flimsy cord around the entire perimeter of the green, and several signs had been posted:

养草期间

请勿入内

Time for growing grass

Please do not enter

The Chinese weren’t phased by the sign or the groundskeeper. He didn’t have any real authority; he just had a whistle. The spring was on its way, and their spirits were high like mine, high amongst the kites.

Tonight was toothy.

Chinese New Year

The year of the tiger

And the tiger had come out of the mountains

So that I could catch him.

+++

I walked up to him

Breaking the cardinal rule

That you never walk up to a tiger

Unless you are mad or wise:

You either don’t know what you’re doing,

And your brains are already being biled by the beast

Or you know the tiger like footing on a paved street,

Sure of yourself, but prepared for the unexpected.

+++

His mouth was upon me

But I saw that he wasn’t biting.

He just rested his teeth there,

As if he could strike at any second

But would be content to just play for now.

+++

Would I be his master?

Or would he destroy me?

I thought on this, as

+++

I walked home in the big, flakey snow

That turned to slush all about my feet

And stuck on my jacket like tiger’s teeth

Not biting, but resting, just resting there.

[FERRET and LEAF are getting street kabobs on Shanghai’s immortal and immoral Hengshan Lu. Unfortunately, someone from the bar across the street has ordered enough kabob’s for the entire bar. So FERRET and LEAF have to wait in the cold. LEAF talks to herself to stay warm:]

LEAF

怎么那么冷啊！他们为什么点了那么多菜啊！

How is it so cold?　Why did they order so much food?

[A MAN walks by and asks the KABOB WOMAN:]

MAN

最近的自动取款机在哪理？

Where is the nearest ATM?

KABOB WOMAN

对面有一个！

There’s one across the street.

MAN

那个取款机关住了。还有呢？

That one is closed. Is there another?

LEAF

[interjecting]

前面在永嘉路有一个银行，可是我不知道有没有24个小时的取款机。前面在衡山路的右边有一个中国银行。你肯定在用那个取款机。

There is another up ahead on Yongjia Lu, but I don’t know if it has a 24 hour ATM. Up ahead on Hengshan Lu on the right there is a Bank of China. You can definitely use that ATM.

MAN

好的。谢谢！

Okay. Thanks.

[The MAN walks off. FERRET teases LEAF:]

FERRET

[in somewhat broken Chinese]

你是导游。

You are a tour guide.

KABOB WOMAN

你的中文说得很好。

You speak Chinese very well.

FERRET

谢谢。

Thanks.

[The KABOB WOMAN pulls closer to LEAF and speaks under her breath, not wanting FERRET to hear.]

KABOB WOMAN

他说的是什么意思？

What was he saying?

LEAF

他说了我是个导游。他给我开玩笑。

He said I’m a tour guide. He was telling a joke.