Challenges
The new semester has begun in earnest. Although all of my courses are in Chinese, I’m taking two courses that are more language-intensive than the others, one on lyrics and another on educational theory, that require quite a bit more involved levels of the language than the other courses. So while last semester I was either at the top or near the top of all my courses, this semester I’ll just be glad to get a passing grade in all of them. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even had time to properly explore Zhongli, as I recently lamented to Josh, whom I’d run into near campus when I was having dinner between courses.
It’s also becoming even clearer just how much I don’t know about music production (spoiler: a lot). Our production professor, who is tele-teaching from Beijing, is assigning actual song production this semester whereas last semester we were just going over the basics of the software (Cubase, which I find difficult to use, but oh well, that’s what we’re using). I took the professor’s melody (which he came up with seemingly on the spot using the number-based scoring that is popular in Asia) and composed what I thought were some pretty cool chord progressions, but when I heard what the other students had come up with, it was obvious that I need to up my game. I’m also realizing how much I have hitherto neglected the art of percussion in music, something that I really need to brush up on, and listening to the drum parts of many of my favorite pieces has been a revelation. My reluctance in this respect probably comes from years of sitting right in front of the drum section in band; it’s hard to enjoy drums that are constantly banging away inches behind one’s head, and I suppose I just learned to tune it out.
Things will get even busier next week when not only are the Ramblers getting ready for some springtime gigs, our photography course is also starting up. Being so busy with the master’s program coursework, I’ve pretty much been letting my photos pile up on my hard drive. And in any case posting photos online these days feels frivolous in light of the United States’ ongoing self-inflicted implosion into a well-armed tinpot oligarchy, the other world powers jockeying over who will take the place it has abandoned. But art is needed even more in such times, so I will keep making it as best as I can.
At least this long, cold winter shows signs of abating. I’m so very glad that I finally installed heat in the Water Curtain Cave, as this winter has been brutal. The cold just seeps into the bones of these concrete structures and lasts well into spring. But this weekend has been lovely. Yesterday I went with Chenbl and his parents to the Fo-An Temple, located in an alley off of Minzu West Road, where they were celebrating the birthdays of both Ji Gong and the local land god (Ji Gong was apparently ok with moving his birthday to that of the land god because Ji Gong is just cool like that), and the group of devotees there were nice enough to give us some of the bao they’d prepared for the celebration. Afterward we had some tasty pig’s feet for dinner at a place across Minzu Road, as other temple celebrations, including stage dancers and a vast feast, had been set up along the roadside. Occasionally a jet would fly overhead before landing at the nearby Songshan Airport.
This morning I went to tai-chi practice at the park for the first time in a while. I’ve been rather lax about going in recent months due to other obligations, weather, and, to keep it a buck, just wanting to sleep in on Sunday mornings. But I nearly always feel better after tai-chi practice, and it was nice to go through the empty-handed form as well as the sword form a couple of times. As it happened, a bunch of tai-chi elders were having a get-together lunch nearby, so quite a few of them came by to say hi to Little Qin, who is now the leader of our group. They ranged in age from 70 on up to over 100. “I was practicing here in the park ages ago,” one of them told me. “When did you start? I’ve seen you around here for at least 20 years.”
“I first came to watch tai-chi here in the summer of 1989,” I said. He just laughed and called me a newbie, which…fair, as he was here in the 1940’s. One of old guys wanted to practice push-hands with me, which I did with some hesitation, not just because I hadn’t practiced in a while, but also because damn this guy was old. He probably could have sent me flying, but still.
After practice and our usually discussions about politics, history and culture, I bade Little Qin and the others adieu and walked towards the North Gate to see if Kyomachi No. 8, a nifty jazz cafe with the nice music and tasty quiche to be enjoyed with the view to historic buildings on both sides, was open as Google Maps intimated. Alas, it was not, so I had brunch nearby before returning home.
Now it’s time to knuckle down on this homework.
