Hello to my literally tens of readers!
I'm writing on an overcast Saturday in order to feel semi-productive, and because the act of writing will take some time. Time, I have.
Oh, I don't have 100% free time as I'm working (with attendant marking/planning), but I have more than I need. If I could, I would bend time and space to make the next month or so a month of 18 hour days rather than the usual 24. There is a simple reason for this....
It's almost go time.
At a certain point I realised that there was a decent number of holidays coming up in addition to the requisite weekends, and that I hadn't used the majority of my 'sick days' yet, so I did the math on what percentage of days I would be spending on the job. It was enviable. I began a countdown.
Mr. Hoochador and I swung a deal where prospective students would be tested on some Saturdays, and we could leave a few days early. The testing process involves dressing decently and standing around for a while, then speaking cursorily to each student in English to see who can actually say anything. Easy as, bru.
At this point there are less than 40 days until I get to go back to the land of everything. Fantastic. I've been doing more than just marking time, however.
I went to Tokyo for the second time this year, this time for 6 nights. I saw a baseball game, went to a concert of an all-girl Japanese band, drank beer while watching children's television (surreal experience) because they spoke slow enough to me to understand, and visited parks around the city. I also went to Ochanomizu.
Ochanomizu is a district that used to be famous only as a source for tea-water (hence the name), but now serves as the destination for anybody interested in shopping for an electric guitar. Within 200 meters there were about 9 guitar shops, each of which holding far more than your average Long & McQuade, and all just packed with amazing guitars.
I went in search of a late 70's 'lawsuit era' made in Japan guitar, and found a 1977 Greco EG-900 for 85,000 yen, or about $850 give or take a few percentage points. It is a heavy vintage beast of a guitar, that then became a source of significant anxiety.
I was flying back to China on a Delta airlines flight with a smallish plane, which meant it was going to be touchy as to whether I could get the guitar into the cabin as a carry on. Chinese people, you may know, absolutely load up on whatever they can when they return to their country, as goods of the type they want are either entirely absent, corrupted in some way by Chinese greed/lack of morals regarding profit/health/etc., or prohibitively expensive. Thus, it became rather important that I get onto the plane quickly.
The girls running the gate could not understand the fact that I was carrying a guitar almost twice their age which was unlikely to react positively to pressure changes or the very fast downward/upward swings in temperature that accompany take off/landing if something is down with the baggage. It's a giant heavy piece of wood (probably mahogany?) with a nitrocellulose finish that I didn't feel like seeing cracked like so much ice, so I attempted to 'out-Chinese' the Chinese by lining up first.
After the first class passengers/Delta club members and other similar people got on they called for zone one boarders (happily, my zone), at which I strode forward with ticket in hand to get beeped through. Down a gangway at a moderate pace until just about ready to turn onto the arm that connects to the plane before...
"Excuse me sir, we would like to do a random security check on you. If you could put your bags on this table and sit down, it won't take long."
I complied (obviously), and watched the lady pointlessly unzip my bag, refuse my offer to open my large guitar hardcase, and somewhat incredulously took off my shoes so they could be fondled. My peripheral vision registered the other passengers filing onto the plane at a regular pace as this farce unfolded, and it was with relief that I took my leave to scamper onto the plane.
Happily I found room for the guitar above where I was sitting by the simple expedient of putting someone's small bag on top of it. The guitar got to China in fine condition (perfect being impossible for a 36 year old guitar - part of the appeal. I won't cry if I nick it on something), after a slight jostle through train stations and taxis.
So now I have an excellent vintage guitar, and the looming prospect of flying with it again, as I plan on taking it back to Canada to join my clan of excellent guitars. More and more to look forward to, if I can somehow make the next 39 days give up on existence. The count continues!
