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No responsibility will be accepted by the author for the wastage of your valuable time whilst reading this. Any claims that she has forced you to visit this site in order to inflate her ego will go ignored, and will only go to show your vulnerability to the author's exceptional persuasive skills as developed in Year 12 English. That is all.

Bonne vivante. Raconteur. Procrastinator.

Today (Saturday, December 2) was preceded by a feverish night of boiling hotness and the shivering chills, as the dreaded influenza virus caused my body temperature to fluctuate wildly. With the consumption of Panadol and a bottle of spring water during the night, however, I managed to ready myself for the ‘Change of Host’ planned today.

Today, I had an amazingly adequate amount of sleep, getting up at 8am (which was almost twelve hours). Unfortunately, suffering from extreme dizziness, disorientation and a splitting headache, I staggered to my room to pack (I had failed both pack and blog last night, which marked my descent into total indolence and neglect with regards my blog). After throwing in items of clothing, FAS and what not into my suitcase in a random fashion, I eventually finished packing within an hour (hurrah) and got dressed to take my luggage to Andy’s house. When it came to the shoes, memories of a rainy Hangzhou came flooding back, where my exquisite gold flats were covered with filthy black stains and ruined. My own feet were frostbitten and drained of all feeling. Thankfully, Eileen’s father was compassionate enough to clean the shoes (although I should have done it) and restore them to their former glory. So, I chose to wear my tacky Adidas shoes.

However, in spite of arranging to meet Jezza and Swee at Century Park at the outrageously early time of 8:30am, it was already 9am when I bid goodbye to Eileen’s parents and set out to Andy’s apartment. Furthermore, with Eileen slightly bewildered as to where his apartment really was, we were again delayed, reaching there at about 9:20am.

When we saw Andy waiting for us in front of the apartment blocks dubbed ‘Jade Mansions’ (and I was soon to find that it was for good reason), he swiped an ID card on the door and took us into a lavish hall. With excessive use of marble as well as a widescreen TV by the elevators, SAM (Stingy Asian Miser) was brimming with anticipation. He helped us load the luggage into a sleek elevator, and took us to the 14th floor where his penthouse-like residence was. When he opened the door and welcomed us into his home, I was astonished. With trendy ornaments; glossy polished floors; sparkling glass; a massive TV and swivel couches arranged neatly in the room, the apartment resembled a swanky modern apartment by the Yarra River. With my mouth still gaping and SAM screaming rather Paulinely in my head, I had a brief meeting with Andy’s half-awake mother (relative to Eileen’s parents’ effervescent fussing) before being whisked away to Century Park.

We were all driven by Tony (Andy’s de facto stepfather guy) to Century Park in a car - YES, an actual car. Seeing the stunning sights that I had witnessed several nights ago with Eileen, Andy and Bill, we got off to find Jezza and Swee waiting patiently by the eight poles. Upon seeing her, I bounded towards Swee, embraced her tightly and muttered hoarsely into her ear: “SU WEI KHUNG, HE’S RICH.” Seeing the look of incomprehension on her face, I described his apartment in detail whilst we made our way into Century Park.

Before exploring the park, however, we headed off to hire a bicycle to make the journey a tad more enjoyable. Coming to the hire area, we were amazed to see rows upon rows of tandem and even triple bikes, as well as creepy rickshaw things complete with a lacy tarpaulin roof. Swee and I simply admired the panoramic view of the largest park in Asia, but occasionally burst into laughter as our Chinese hosts deliberated in Chinese over the best method of transport and threw in several jokes about the creepy rickshaws. Eventually, we settled for a creepy rickshaw for three and a tandem bicycle, when Swee began hyperventilating.

“Mel… Mel…” she croaked in between raspy gulps of air, “Melll…”

“Swee, what’s wrong? Do you have ash-ma?”

“Mel… he’s loaded…” she exhaled.

Indeed, she had spotted Andy at the ticket office flashing his sizeable wad of 100 yuan notes. In fact, Tony had asked Andy earlier: “Do you need a little bit of cash?” When Andy agreed, Tony proceeded to pull out a hefty stack of 100 yuan bills from his wallet, and I watched, feeling slightly faint, as he made a concerted effort to squeeze it in. Fortunately, Swee quickly recovered before Andy returned, although she did seem a bit flushed afterwards when he retrieved his wallet, saying: “Do I have enough cash?” and checking his turgid wallet for the glaring scarlet notes. Little bit of cash, indeed.

While Jezza, Swee and I climbed into the rickshaw (Jezza and I were pedalling), Eileen and Andy hopped onto the tandem bicycle. However, due to my girly weakness, they sped off leaving us inching forward slowly. That’s right, the unfortunate Jezza was actually pedalling for three, although I did move my legs to disguise my failure.

The park was absolutely magnificent: it was filled with innumerable visitors (including yours truly) admiring the evergreen trees, lush green grass (as compared to the parched weeds back home), a vast lake and sculptures. We took several photos and dodged psychotic some-kind-of-open-bus-thing drivers. After a while, I sacrificed poor Swee and 'allowed' her to take the wheel, figuratively speaking (the second wheel on the right was actually a fake, just to add in some symmetry in the ugly beast).

However, we soon caught up to Andy and Eileen, who were already waiting patiently by some grass sculptures for us to arrive. The grass sculptures were incredible; they loomed over us like majestic Goliaths and reached almost two stories high (photos will come eventually, I promise). We also stopped by a small lake sporting several grass ducks and a corpulent grass frog, which I blew a kiss to compensate for my lack of statue whoring in the previous day.

Tired of the arduous pedalling, Swee and I swapped with Andy and Eileen and climbed onto the tandem bicycle. Regardless of a shaky start (I sat in the front after Swee almost ran over into a toddler), we soon coasted past several grass sculptures ranging from a Big Ben clock tower to a massive hand pouring tea into a steaming cup (there was an actual fountain of water and real steam to a family of bears with hula hoops. Yes, they were all of great symbolic significance...

However, we eventually grew sick of cruising into random lanes, and decided to create some mischief. Well, Mello the Psycho Bitcho did, anyway. Thus, when we neared a bridge with a base of steps, we realised that these machinations could be fulfilled. Choosing that route, we cycled into the path, followed by Jezza, Eileen and Andy (the lucky Eileen was sitting in the middle while the gentlemen pedalled). Reaching the end, we then turned around and cycled back, much to their dismay. With the cumbersome size of the creepy rickshaw, they were forced to go backwards while we raced away cackling hysterically. Nevertheless, we managed to catch sight of their efforts in turning around the large beast. As they couldn't reverse by pedalling backwards, they were then forced to get out and manually haul the hefty rickshaw (with Eileen inside too) in order to perform a three-point turn.

With our hosts lagging behind for obvious reasons, we continued our ride, and, after realising that we were moving in a large circle, chose a narrow pathway in order to further torture them. However, not feeling brutal enough to force them to perform another three-point turn (and quite possibly backing into some thorn bushes), we rocketed ahead and swerved to the left as they negotiated their way through undergrowth. Turning to the left again, we leapt off our bike and hid behind some thick bushes, watching them as they emerged from the bush in bafflement. We listened to cries in Chinese as they debated about our whereabouts. However, when we saw two legs sprout from each side of the creepy rickshaw so that they could reverse and turn in the opposite direction, we had achieved our goal and could not contain ourselves any longer.

“HEY! OVER HERE!”

When the three victims of our ruthless pranking turned around, their combined shouts of both relief and frustration reverberated across the park.

After their legs scuttled around and turned to follow us, we resumed our cycling and creepy-rickshaw-ing in a similar fashion (minus the machinations and plus another fleet of photos). Eventually, we reached a rather congested highway flanked by a pond and theme park. With the passage teeming with tourists, we were unable to crash into unsuspecting minors without being arrested. Hence, we gave up our hit-and-run campaign for lunch.

We returned our bicycles and creepy rickshaws and sat down at the swanky ‘Century Park Restaurant’ for our meal. The always rapacious Andy instantly asked for every single item present on the menu, but I simply ordered a cheeseburger to satisfy my yearning for the good ol’ saturated-fat-infested burgers at home. Swee ordered a dish of spaghetti bolognaise.

The prominently Asian take on Western cuisine was sufficiently tasty. But with Swee having arranged to meet her new host 音乐 (Music) at school, Eileen, Andy and I were forced to bid adieu to Jezza and her while we went off to play [insert frenzied hand movements and ricocheting-bullet sound effects, due to the lack of translation]. Thus, we passed the lake and found ourselves in the aforementioned theme park in queue for the ‘Crazy Mice’ (I think they meant the ‘Mad Mouse’, a rollercoaster ride similar to that in Luna Park). Yet, seeing the relative tameness of the ride in comparison to those in Australia (no dips at all and a speed akin to that of a fat kid running), as well as the pricey admission fare of 20 yuan per person, we chose to take an electric boat and float along the massive lake in the centre of the park.

Donning blindingly orange life jackets, we collapsed into a boat literally, due to the size of the diminutive interstice between the high jetty and the low roof of the boat. Even though the waves caused the boat to pervicaciously move in the exact opposite direction of what Andy intended, after a three-hundred-point turn, we managed to back out from the jetty of laughing boatmen and drifted into the middle of the lake.

During the ride, we marvelled at the great speed of a speed boat (hence the name) and scoffed at immature parents encouraging their children to crash into us. When the novelty of driving a boat wore off, we turned off the engine and resorted to teaching Andy how to play poker (yes! Another innocent corrupted!) and playing 二十四点 (24 Points) until the chilly breeze blew our cards away. By the way, they were foolishly placed on the nose of the boat by yours truly...

In case you are unaware of the game 24 Points, it is an infuriating mathematical game devised by equally infuriating Chinese wunderkinds with nothing better to do than to mystify and completely belittle unsuspecting foreigners. The basic aim of the game is to draw four random cards and use all of them once with four basic operations to make up the number 24.

For example: if you are given 3, 3, 7 and 7, you could say (3 ÷ 7 + 3) × 7 = 24. In case you were wondering, yes, I was the only one on the boat that failed dismally in figuring that out, and there was NO way that I could ever possibly do otherwise.

When the threat of frostbite slowly became reality and our hire time dwindled away, we shivered back to the jetty. Meanwhile, we attempted to figure out the combination of 3, 3, 8 and 8 given to us by Andy. With the quantity of hyperventilating comrades severely depleted (and replaced by a painfully smug Andy, who had taken a whole night but still figured the above combination out), Tony drove us back to Andy’s house.

We were met there by Sally and Heero, and, after idling around in a slothly manner, we left together for a game of pool. On the way, we laughed at Heero, who ran ahead of us and scared the life out of an innocuous cat sitting by the gate, and walked for an unbearably long time to the pool tables.

The pool and snooker tables were located in an underground bar-like basement, which was filled with seedy men, cigarette smoke, the noise of colliding cue balls and the distinct flavour of human flatulence (much to the seedy men’s amusement). Andy went to the other side of the room while we arranged ourselves around our pool table, only to return with an extremely creepy three-fingered frictionless glove wrapped around his hand. Trying not to shiver at the spine-chilling accessory, I teamed up with him against Eileen, Sandy and Heero.

After one game, I had already established a solid reputation as a powerful player whose cue balls seemed to have a magnetic effect on the pockets. Little did they know, however, it was all a fluke and I was, in fact, aiming for another ball entirely. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

After winning our first game, we reshuffled the teams: the boys versus the girls; however, with Andy’s incredible skill (that single-handedly won the previous game anyway), they easily thrashed us.

At this point, Bill (the de facto stepbrother guy from Sunday) arrived with another creepy red glove. I joined Heero and Andy while Bill teamed up with Eileen and Sally. Granted, Bill had a psychotic command of the pool table and with the deafening crack of cue balls under his hand, and received Andy’s indignant shouts: “你干嘛?! 这样打的?!” or basically “What is wrong with you, you billiard freak?” Yet, with Andy on our team, we still seemed unconquerable. So, after more of my fluky shots (which gained the fraudulent admiration from my peers) and Andy’s not-so fluky victories, we won again.

Feeling slightly empowered by my flukiness, I decided to rearrange the teams to make another girls versus boys match, irrespective of the extreme talent of Andy and Bill. Smart move. Therefore, we began another game, and, while the boys soared ahead by at least three balls, us girls were reduced to a giggling round of ‘帅不帅?’ with the Gollum-like billiard champions on the wall. Eventually, after the boys had long sunk their last ball, they were aiming for and startlingly missing the 8-ball. Then, it was my turn. Chalking my cue as professionally as possible in order to mask my incompetence, I simply tried to aim my cue away from biological balls and hit something I was supposed to. However, to my utter disbelief, I managed to sink my own ball. Taking the rare opportunity of a second go (it took me aeons to establish the Aussie rules with my awful Chinese), I again, to my surprise, hit another ball in. Thus, the girls only had a purple ball to go before we were equally matched, both scrambling to hit the black ball in gaining the prestigious title of pool champions. Unfortunately, if I were to hit the purple ball, it’d set up their 8-ball perfectly. Therefore, I only made a tentative shot and missed. This meant that I had to hand it to Andy (of all people) and a perfect set up on a platinum platter. As predicted, he still managed to sink the ball within two tense shots (but strangely missed it the first time).

Still reeling from the – possibly contaminated – flatulence of the male snooker group beside us (yes, hilarious for them, though), we paid the fees (a mere 12 yuan or AUD$2 per hour) and left in search of food. Heero went home. As it was getting late and nearing Eileen’s curfew, we combed the streets urgently for a decent banquet for five, and, after finding that all of the restaurants on the street required queuing up, called Eileen’s mother and persuaded her (with the help of her father) to allow Eileen to wait for a bit longer to eat dinner. Thus, we settled for barbeque.

Most of us could not stand the coldness outside and entered the restaurant. Waiting on the ground floor and choking on the blankets of smoke swirling around the restaurant, it took us about half an hour to get a seat. Meanwhile, we watched as several customers cheerfully placed skewers of meat and other unidentified objects onto a metal frame to barbeque them, which sat above a metal box of hot coals. This was embedded into the table.

Eventually, we were allocated a seat on the second floor. The waitress filled our boxes and covered it with a metal pan to allow it to heat up. We got ready to order. Sally, Eileen and I left the boys poring over the order form and selecting the items of the night’s feast. When they were finished (God help us when Andy Lu orders food), we didn’t wait long before our food was delivered.

Always the gentleman, Andy took charge of the roasting of his and my food while Bill looked after Sally and Eileen. After leaving it to roast and sprinkling ample amounts of spice, seasoning and what not, Andy gave me several skewers while we joked about his culinary incompetence. We all began to devour the food ravenously. I gorged myself on chicken, lamb and 馒头 (buns), steering clear of 臭豆腐 (the pertinently named ‘stinky tofu’) and chicken and duck hearts. Following another round of skewers (thanks to none other than Andy), we emerged suffering from severe PMS (Post Meal Satiation), bid Eileen farewell (nooo!) and stumbled home.

When we reached home, I was, to my utter elation, allocated the master bedroom - Andy’s mother went to the adjacent block to live in their second Jade Mansion. Bouncing at the sight of a personal en suite, king sized bed, view of the Huangpu River and, most importantly, a widescreen TV, I moved my luggage into the room as Andy and Bill played the gentlemen and escorted Sally home. However, enticed by beauty sleep (yes, that’s right, Mr Wang) and feeling slightly awkward in the presence of two teenage Chinese-babbling boys, I changed into my pyjamas and scribbled a goodnight note in Chinese. This was to avoid exposing my mediocre Chinese oratory skills and at least give the impression of a polite brat.

Let us hope for a peaceful night devoid of any night terrors. That is, nightmares about creepy rickshaws and frictionless gloves…

-Mel

Statue Whore Count: 3

Other Counts: Argh, don’t ask.

Labels: Chinese Exchange, Outings

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