Mini blizzard
(View from the balcony: Suzhou, China)
I was sitting inside the lounge on Tuesday and turned my head for a moment as there was movement behind the curtains. Snow flakes as big as pennies were pouring onto the balcony and over my drying laundry. After rushing out to scoop off the freezing tangle of bed-sheets, a pair of embracing shirts and some pyjamas, I stood to watch the teeming flakes flowing across the window. Supposedly Summer will be here in a couple of short weeks. Ying and I were told that after Spring Festival there is one big cold rain; this cools the atmosphere after a brief mild spell, bringing us firmly back to winter. This is followed by a warm rain that heats it up again, heralding Summer’s beginnings. I’m not sure how accurate the meteorological advice of a masseur might be, but these are the people we rely on if we don’t know who else to ask.
China cannot be trusted when it comes to the weather. Two weeks ago I was cycling around the lake in a t shirt, but now we’re back to the biting cold again. It’s actually much more unpredictable here even than Scotland. If you ask Ying’s mum, she’ll tell you that over the course of her stay, it was mild and sunny light-jacket weather some days in October and November, but the next might have ice cold winds blowing until your ears could chill and snap clean off.
Today it is gloriously bright again, like yesterday the weather is that of a perfect winter day; clear and sun-drenched but crisp in a way that summer days never are. I took advantage of this fair weather to finally try my hand at sending letters from a post office. It’s a daunting prospect as there is no English translations provided and the staff do not smile, even if I do. The office itself is a Spartan affair containing two morose men, each seated at the same long barrier desk across one wall. The rest of the ‘office’ is a wide space with absolutely nothing in it. I must assume they suffer terrible queues sometimes, yet Susan and I were the only occupants this time. I had ten items to send, collected over many weeks; one parcel and nine postcards. I held the parcel and iterated (with my best effort) “Ting, zhe ge, DeGuo”, basic translation being “Please, this one for Germany”. Or at least, it seemed to work. The gentleman’s indifferent expression remained unaltered. I passed him the others, indicating the UK as a destination. He proceeded to labouriously stamp every one in turn with the same air mail stamp. Press stamp on ink pad, push down hard, place on letter, push down hard. Press stamp on ink pad… Once he had done this with every item, he tapped three digits into a calculator and shuffled it across the desk to me. “Yi bai ar” (102), I handed him my money and asked for a receipt. His expression did not change and there was no way of knowing if he heard or not. In answer, he pulled another stamp from below his desk and flicked through a receipt book, tearing off several strips from two different books. He then proceeded to stamp each of these paper slips in the same manner. I must conclude that working for China Post is more pleasant if one is a lover of stamps, perforated paper and of bureaucracy.
brass monkeys!
nice use of the word morose by the way… hehe
mx