To Help or Not to Help

The Infinity people


I feel like a queen of East Europe!


A couple of drinks in the old Hog's head in St Mary Axe, wow, it is all like the old days.
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When going through the UK immigration, I volunteered to help an old Chinese man to answer immgration officer's inquiries. Amoung all oriental looking passengers (I came out of a 747 loaded with Japanese), I stepped out because I hope someone would also step forward to help my father or mother when they are traveling abroad alone.

I was tired and exhausted after 13 hours flight, but trying hard to keep my cool. The old man was from GuangXi, a retired teacher. I filled out the landing card for him, patiently waiting in the queue.

However, the old Chinese man is annoying in a brutal mannerless Chinese way. I did not feel his appreciation (it is not like I want him to thank me, but if he can put a little bit of thoughts for me, sweet but useless comments like "I am sorry to take your time, but..." I think I would be much more than happy to help him through). Of course his attitute was really his best weapon, I did admire his fearless and nothing-to-lose bluntiness. Nevertheless, that annoyed the hell out of me. As if he deserved to be served.

Although he has got a full set of documentation to allow him to get into UK, the immigration officer's attitute was not of his best. Question: How long is he going to stay? Answer from the old man "5 months" So I immediate translated but the old man added "maybe 6 months". So I faithfully ferried the answer to the officer, who was not amused "5 or 6 moths?". "Can you just put down 6 months to be sure" "I was expecting a truthful, concise answer when you replied". After the routine examination, he was let go and my passport was handled. The officer was not able to find any empty page to stamp, he was giving me the nagging about my lack of attention to my travel document, the old man standing behind the line raised his voice in Chinese "Why don't they let you through?" Immigration folks hate people talking in language they don't know, especially they thought we are traveling together. Dirty looks exchanged, oh god, I just want to get to my apartment and rest.

Finally I went through, though the old man is annoying, I worried that he won't be able to find his luggage from the laggage reclaim bells. I lead him to the reclaim area and pointed to him where he should find his luggages then I went to find mine. Again, he was sticking to me, nagging "what should I do, what should I do" Totally not using his brain cells but hoping I would find his luggages and pamper him all the way out. To this point, I was most annoyed to a point I want to run. But he really had no options without knowing anything. I ran around to find his bags (with him in tow), just before he got the chance to get on hold of me again, I quickly ran toward the "Nothing to claim" exit and shouted "You should also get out from here". I was worried he might catch me so I really walked very fast.

Broken Heels

I was such a violent walker, especially when wearing my 3 inch heels (these are really my favorite heels, they are so comfortable though very high, classic style, they go with any outfit). When crossing the busy street near Liverpool street station, I thought my heel was caught between the cobble stone. It turned out that the heel on my right foot has broken into half.

I quickly calculated what my options are, plan A, I limped to the shoe and key making shop next to the station. Pleading "Can you do something about it?" handing my poor shoe to the shoe expert "I just need it to hold up for one day, just let me pass today". The shoe expert was so cool, he explained "love, this cannot be fixed within one day, you need to have the whole heel replace." "Can you just tape it up or glue it together" "Nope, I have seen many stressed ladies like you, but the good news is that you get to do some shoe shopping".

Sex and Men

Reading another film critic's work about Ang Lee's "Lust, Caution". She described Tony Leung's performance in the film astonishing, especially the sex scene. "Have not ever seen any actor expressing his distress and loneliness during sex to a degree that you feel painful as if your heart is torn. At fierecely violent and aggressive moment, his thighs trembled because of fear and excitment. This devil who dictated many innocent lifes let out his deepest anxiety and insecurity during sex."

What a powerful description, I regret I didn't have the chance to watch it carefully. However, this makes me think about the relation between males and sex. Is it the incredibly unfulfilling desire not to be lonely pushing men to be more sexually aggressive than women? That's what makes men different from other male animals? The desire has surpassed the need of survival?

Where is the Post Office

Yummy Japanese beef, Sandy and I got really full just a couple of pieces of these highly fatty meat, Uncle Thomas had another 3 or 4 plates all by himself.
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I need to send out some document to my bank in Japan, trying to find the post office nearby the client which is right next to Bank of England. The building is certainly historical, but the interior sucks. I feel like the living maid in the movie Gosford Park, working in the dark mezzanie.

Anyhow, I quickly googled the post office near by bank station, keyworded "post office bank London". The result came very satisfactory, I am in 30 something Lambard street, and the post office is 10-15 Lambard street. I farewelled the group from lunch and walked toward the post office. The address numbering system is very confusing, the number jumps from 82 to 21, I started to have bad feelings. I walked the same segment of road up and down twice, I still cannot see the 10-15 Lambard. Desparate, I went to ask for direction from the newspaper guy. He didn't even look at me when saying "straight down". I kept walking on Kings William's road, very confused. I thought the post office is in Lambard street? A couple blocks passed, I gave up and retrieved back to the office, thinking I shall return tomorrow morning with clear idea where the post office is.

Checked on the google map the next morning (10-15 Lambard street is really hiding near King William's road side), I was all confident in finding it this time. However, failure hit me again. Frustrated, I went to the Pret-a-manger to buy a crossiant to cheer myself up (also wanted to ask where the hell the post office is). The nice lady behind the counter say "Post office? You have to walk toward Monument, it is right next to the Tesco". "But the google map says there is a post office on Lambard street". "Oh, that's the name of the road, Post Office Court!".

Critics

I was really shocked to realise that an ex-colleague of mine who always looked so confident, talked so well, and damn knowledgeable of everything about progamming actually collapsed when being pressed to produce a piece of software.

I guess we all need a bit of silliness in life, I was silly enough to think I can do certain things and I go ahead thinking optimisitcally that I will finish it within 2 weeks. I think he is too obssessive to create the perfect software, no silly thinking like mine.

London Seems Strange

Standing in the Ginza crossing in Tokyo, autum is in Tokyo.
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Returning to London again, walking on the street, I suddenly find that people are bigger in size, women are not really paying attention to their looks (trainers with dressing suit? Oh My God, London is turning into American), and there are a lot of rubbish on the street. Look carefully, it is lacking attention to details everywhere. Most of the Victoria era buildings have been converted to modern dwellings, such as office or pubs or apartments. But the bathrooms or kitchens are just not completed (of course, they are not meant to be functioning that way when the whole living space was designed in 19 century). I cannot believe that I am getting used to Japanese standard so fast and I started to understand the culture shock hitting Irene when she first came to London. London is rough, yes. I walk on Fenchurch street feeling that I am really small and fragile.

My French colleague made an very interesting comments about women in London. He can feel their sexuality, very obvious, whereas you do not feel so much about it with women in Tokyo. I have to agree with him. In London, women are more like an open book showing their desire, wants and dont-wants. In Tokyo, women, though dressed very girly, are playing down their sexuality as much as they can. They are cute, but not sexy. Perhaps that's what a harmony, balanced, smooth social operation needs. It is just a bit of less fun, maybe that's why Japanese men have to find their lovers in Ginza with money.

Unstoppable

My friend, Thang, passed away last Sunday. I was hoping to see him again in London before I boarded on the plane, planning buying another set of DVDs so we can watch together in his Newbury Park flat. Just 2 days before my trip, I received the emails from his family saying that he's in the intensive unit back in his hometown Phileadaphia and it's going to be his last few days alive on this planet.

31 of the age, he struggled with this acute lymphatic luekimia for 1 and half years. I was very angry when knowing he's fallen seriously ill last year, he had every right to live, to have a normal life, fighting with his wife, kids, getting old, wrinkly and naggy, then die with all his family and friends around him. As time progressed seeing him being tortured by chemo theropy and god-knows-what drugs the doctors gave him, I still had hope that all these pains and suffer will pay off one day when he is healthy and building up his muscles again.

I am not sure how to feel, feeling happy that he is not suffering anymore and, at the same time, feeling truely depressed because there is indeed no hope for his recovery.