Eavesdropping

I love eavesdropping.

When you're a kid, your parents always tell you to mind your own business. When you're in a public setting, you're always told not to stare, not to eavesdrop, and use good manners. When you're a kid, you're always drawn to the conversation of grown-ups in the room like moths to a light bulb, and parents find this about as annoying as the pesky moth. Somehow, this tenet never stuck with me. I'm sure people are not surprised. And I love interjecting my opinion when given the go-ahead.

Last night, I again visited my local watering hole. I really think given all the times that I spend there that I should do research or something on human behavior, or a mind boggling sociology experiment. It would probably be a better use of my time. Then again, at times the "control group" in this environment is anything but in control.

Back to eavesdropping. At one point in the evening, I was sitting alone and two guys were sitting next to me. One of them was a conversation commando. I don't think that his friend ever got a word in edgewise. Rather, he nodded his head in agreement, but it was obvious he was getting bored with the conversation.

It was about poker.

I don't understand poker. I don't want to understand poker. And I really don't care about the strategy of poker. The only strategy I would have is "win." This dialogue dictator talked about hands he played, strategies he used, the ineptness of competitors that he played against, the ins, the outs, and the theories of poker, for 35 minutes. And somehow, I still listened. Yes, I'm an eavesdropper.

His friend was a saint. He sat there and listened patiently. Yet, he never said a word, except for an occasional "uh huh" or "yup."

I would have preferred waterboard torture.

I would like to think that my conversations with people are very interesting. I would like to think that I'm interesting. And I have the biggest fear that I would be a dullard like the poker guy last night. "I HOPE I'm not THAT guy," I said to myself as I sat there continuing to eavesdrop.

Perhaps I'm more cerebral. And I know I'm judgemental. In fact there were two girls that sat in the same seats as the Hoyle duo, that I observed greeting other friends, and said something as they greeted each other that was apparently funny to them. It was something like "we were wondering where you were," to which the response was, "we knew you were here." I really don't remember anything else, simply for the fact that it was ordinary, and very unfunny. What was extraordinary though was watching the one girl laugh hardily at her friend's witticism.

I thought to myself, "simpleton" and proceeded to watch the football game rerun that was on TV.

Whenever you want to eavesdrop, it seems, you never get the juicy details or conversational tidbits that you wish to overhear, like some scandal (or as K. Andreah spells it, "scandle"), or some information about you that you can hold over one's head in the future as ammunition.
Not that I'm vengeful or anything. I just like to be VERY informed.

Eavesdropping: information at it's finest?

Wonderful World of Dave

Well, it's 13 days until my vacation to China. I know all you readers out there (ok, well maybe all 10 of you...........golly I hope there's more than that!) are probably sick of hearing me talk about my vacation count down. I'm going stir crazy, and this wonderful outlet has been an interesting journey thus far, and at least keeps me occupied while I wait impatiently.

I am hoping to bring interesting fodder while I'm on vacation. Recently I procured a laptop computer, and I'm planning on taking it along with me to update things....a veritable travelogue...while my mom and I are traipsing through China on our oriental adventure. I came across a few things that will give you a little bit of flavor for my style of travelogue. And hopefully you will see my interesting "spin" on things.

Here's the first glimpse of some historical travel posting that I have done in the past. This was an email I sent home to my family while my mom and I traveled to Portugal, Spain, and Morocco in September/October of 2006. Enjoy!


October 10, 2006

Well, Sorry that it has taken so long for us to be able to write to let you know what´s going on. So many things have happened where to begin...

When we got to the airport a week ago Friday, what an interesting experience. When we got on the plane, and were ready to shove off from the gate, there was a delay that would cause us to be late getting to Newark to catch our flight to Lisbon. It wouldn´t have been so bad, however, it would have made us have to miss our flight.

After dealing with one ticket counter, one ¨not-so-informational¨ girl at the information desk, and two trips through security, we managed to get back on the plane with about 2 minutes to spare. Luckily, through the whole ordeal we ended up befriending a young woman who was flying from Chicago to Lisbon as well, and she managed to steer us in the right direction. After that, we got to Newark ok, managed to get on a later flight to Lisbon the same evening, and then after our fun, we decided a beer was in order. After doing some shopping, and experiencing some Japanese dude break wind really loudly while checking the store for some contact solution, we got on the plane.

We arrived in Lisbon and made it to the hotel just fine. Lisbon is very old, and very hilly, with a big castle on the hill that we were able to take pictures of both at night and during the day. It had a lot of small narrow streets and a lot of dogs, and a lot of dog shit. Which is amazing considering most of the dogs are somewhat emaciated, and somehow the rule ¨what goes in must come out¨ does not apply.

We visited Queluz Palace which was absolutely stunning, as well as the resort towns of Estoril and Cascais, which would have been a great place to spend a vacation for about a week (and about a week only, as the Portuguese are so friendly). We managed to watch a speed boat race and had a great lunch. We then proceeded to go to Sintra, which is a UNESCO world heritage sight. My what a beautiful city! It´s in the mountains and tucked away on hills. Hopefully our pictures will do it justice!

We then went to Seville, which reminded us a lot of Chicago in the modern areas. We visited the third largest cathedral in the world, La Giralda, and were able to go up the tower to the minaret to be able to see the whole of the city. We had an awesome dinner at the restaurant (which consisted of fish......yes fish!). The we went out and went shopping. Mom managed to get two watercolors near the cathedral. We then went to a cafe on a side street for lunch, where, thank goodness, my language skills helped make for an otherwise unpleasant experience. Needless to say, after being bombarded by beggars, one beggar (who had no teeth, had no English skills, and very bad manners) wouldn´t leave me alone, then proceeded to call me stupid. That was the third time I´ve heard mom drop the ¨f¨ bomb as she basically told the guy where to go.

We then went shopping around the area, and as we were heading back to the hotel, mom lost the paintings. After painstakingly retracing our steps, and revisiting the places we had been, we were able to recover them, and all was right with the world once again.

By the way, the people are obscenely beautiful in Seville.

Mom did not need her water wings, nose plug, or Esther Williams swim cap for the ferry ride across the straight of Gibraltar (it was just so damn fast!). Remarkably when we boarded the ferry, you were able to see Morocco on the other side.

We arrived in Tangier, and we landed on a completely different planet. It was definitely third world, but beautiful still. We managed to meet up with a wonderful couple from Edmonton, Alberta, named Karin and Ian, who have been a tremendous amount of fun! They´ve been on vacation I think for two weeks prior to us, and Karin said she has been eating her way through vacation (olives off the tree, oranges off the tree, flowers, etc.). She´s quite funny and a LOT of fun. We also managed to give a lot of the people on the tour nicknames. My are there a lot of "interesting" people. You´ll have to ask about the ´Boss of the Rope´.

Rabat was interesting, we managed to visit a mausoleum and necropolis, and once our death tour ended, we ended our evening with a buffet, in which it turned into a free for all. One Israeli woman caught an elbow from me on the chin.

We managed to use the "modern" facilities in Morocco at our first pit stop to Marrakech. I´m not so sure any more whether I mind being able to go to the bathroom outside any more or whether the hole was better. At this point, its a tossup.

Marrakech is very beautiful, very pink, green, blue, and HOT. The vegetation in Morocco is varied and very green. Greener than we expected. Of course, we arrived during Ramadan, where everyone fasts, and everything is unpredictable when it comes to service. Anyhow, there are a LOT of homeless people, and the farms and villages are way more primitive than anything we´ve ever seen before. But, in all, the people were extremely nice, polite, and in many cases grateful that they had the tourism.

In Marrakech we managed to purchase 2 carpets (and the Moroccans could teach car salespeople a thing or two about sales, eegads!!!!!!!), and went to the major square, the Djmaa el Fna where we saw snake (ick!) charmers and monkeys, we bought figs, and almonds, and then managed to get them back to the bus. MMM they were good!

We´ve basically eaten everything on the menu as far as variety goes in Morocco, and it´s all been very good.

Fes was interesting, and really, words don't describe what the Medina and the winding narrow streets are like with all of the souks (shops). Lets just say, after 10 minutes, I had enough Medina to last a lifetime. The tour director said that we should take in the atmosphere and the smells. We caught the smells alright, and I think rancid is the word best to describe them. Combined with tannery, donkey, b.o., and cumin. Hmm......that´s quite a smell.

We were able to buy traditional clothing, shoes, etc. at the market.

We arrived in Tangiers yesterday, where Matt Damon (yay.) is filming some James Bond movie that, had I not been to Tangiers while they were filming it, I´d probably have been sure to miss. We boarded the ferry back to the Mainland of Europe today, and went to Gibraltar.

Gibraltar........there´s no words really to describe that either. It´s very interesting, very small, and it´s beautiful. We managed to go through St. Michael´s Caves, walk around the streets, and visit the Barbary Apes. yes....Apes...... Macaques (this word makes me giggle) as a matter of fact. It was interesting! And they were EVERYWHERE!!!!! We had a LOT of rules to follow before getting off the bus. I wasn't so sure I wanted to get off the bus given the litany of instruction. But, as I said before, there´s nothing else like it.

We´re now in Torremolinos and it´s about 8:30 pm. We´re going to be getting in the shower and then going off for some tapas and booze with Karin and Ian. this hotel is right on the Mediterranean. Tomorrow we have the whole day off with no plans.

Anyhow, I guess that´s about it. We´ve taken a ton of pictures, and no major incidences have taken place aside from mom blowing up the room in Tangier. Oh....and mom was able to ride a camel not once.......but TWICE. Once in Marrakech, and once in Tangier. We have pictures for proof.

Hmm....other than that, not much else has happened. The food has been great, the weather has been in the 80s during the day and sunny, and the evenings have been great. We have seen a couple of cool shows in Morocco, and an AWESOME Fado show in Lisbon.

Well, gotta run, more things to see, and do.

Hope all is well with everyone, and love you all lots!

Dave and Mom

Si....I mean Oui

As my vacation to China is coming up rapidly, lots of things are going through my mind. One of the things I am thinking about is the language barrier.

I don't speak Mandarin. I have been trying to use a software program to teach me this incredibly complicated language. What I've learned so far are some colors, like red, yellow, white, blue, black, and pink (although pink is a little more complicated). I've also learned the words for boy, girl, man, woman, dancing, old lady, old man, fish, airplane, bird, to jump, to walk, to run, to eat, to drink, and to read. And I've learned the words for the numbers 1 through 8.

What it all boils down to is this: I better not ask for anything in multiples of 9. If I decide to buy something, I better like that item in red, blue, yellow, black, white or pink. And if someone asks me to dance, at least I'll know they're not trying to steal my wallet. And if I need assistance, at least I will know how to say, "the little boy is sitting on the left wing of the yellow airplane," or "the white fish is swimming in the aquarium," or "the old man is dancing because he ate too much Mongolian hot pot." Needless to say, I have some concern with my effectiveness in this language.

Without a doubt, I will be thankful once we get to Hong Kong where one of the languages is in English, or when I return to hear the English language. Whenever I have travelled abroad, I find myself thinking very hard due to language issues. I speak French. I speak Spanish. I can decipher Italian. I have a concept of German. But NONE of these languages remotely resembles the Chinese language. I hope my brain doesn't get too tired.

Case in point: I went to Europe several years ago with my friend Jonathan. We took the train from Rome to Amsterdam. It was great! By the time we got to Amsterdam, however, it was extremely rainy. We arrived in Holland at the beginning of April. It was cold. It was damp. And I had a cold. It didn't prohibit me from seeking out things to see in the city of Amsterdam, and the experience of it made me come to like split pea soup. Jonathan and I decided we needed to have some down time before we returned back to the U.S. We decided to see a movie.

The name of the movie escapes me, but from what I recall, it was in English (with Dutch subtitles of course). Michael Douglas was in it, and I had heard rave reviews of it before we left for our trip three weeks earlier. We got our seats. We were relaxed. We were tired. We were looking forward to hearing English.

The movie started. I remember being able to read the credits preceding the movie. And we gave a sigh of relief. "YAY!" we thought, "English." When the movie started, the scene changed to a desert town, that looked much like the Mexican influenced architecture of the desert southwest of the U.S. "Cool," I thought, "this takes place in Arizona." Then the dialogue started.

It was in Spanish.

Furthermore, the subtitles were in Dutch (imagine that, we're in Holland). Jonathan and I looked at each other, started laughing hysterically, to the chagrin of the other Dutch patrons not impressed by our disruption. It wasn't just one scene that was in Spanish, but more like the first 25 minutes.

At minute 26, we cast a sigh of relief. The movie was then in English with Dutch subtitles. After 3 weeks, it was such a pleasant language to hear.

I promise to try my damndest to learn more Chinese, or to learn while I'm there too, but nothing beats coming home to your own language. And, at least if I buy some clothes, I won't have to worry about getting a hot pink one, with a white fish, swimming in an aquarium on an airplane, with an old man eating a sandwich, standing over it dancing.

Thank goodness for that!

No Mrs. Green Jeans...

I saw this today. Take a look:



I laughed for many reasons.

Reason #1: Poor woman! It's always funny, someone's jackassery, especially in the hoity-toity world of fashion. That she fell once, I giggled. That she then fell twice (and I loved the rolly motion of her ankles!) made me about wet myself. Like in the movie "Airplane," you really want to say, "that blouse, that skirt, that watering can....AWFUL, and those shoes....GEEESH!"

Word to the wise: Never wear orange shoes.

Reason #2: I love the newscasters! It sounds like me laughing at one point (yes, that cat from Hong Kong Fooey), and that's a scary thing! Do people laugh like that in Hong Kong?

Reason #3: I want to know who on EARTH walks like that in real life?

Reason #4: The woman on the show seemed like she identified with the shoe issue. Somehow I doubt she wears shoes like that.

Reason #5: The watering can. Now who in the world gardens in a get-up like that?

Word to the wise: Never wear orange shoes.

No Badges For You

Last week, I was talking to a co-worker of mine. She needed some guidance for a business deal she was doing for someone that was purchasing a "fifth-wheel."

I had never heard this term before. I, of course, said, "what the hell is that?"

She laughed, and indicated that she, too, asked a similar (but rephrased) question to her client. Apparently this person looked dumbfounded that she didn't know what that was. Then she turned to me and said, "you don't KNOW what it is?" I responded, "do I LOOK like I know what that is?"

It's a camper.

It's not an ordinary camper, but one that attaches to some device in the bed of a pickup truck.

I had no idea. I learned something.

Well, I'm no camper. I know this is a shocker. But I'm not, and for many reasons.

I recall the few times that I've ever been camping. Once was to Jellystone park with my grandmother when I was really, REALLY little. It was mid summer. And it was hotter than hell. I just remember that my dad left because it was too damn hot. Of course, we stayed. And that's ALL I remember.

I went camping once when I was in cub scouts. I hated that.

I remember 2 or 3 times where I went camping with my family, and my mom's brother and family up near Avalanche, Wisconsin. I didn't much like that either. I went because I had to. When you're younger, you're pretty much enlisted to do whatever it is you're told. I remember one of the times it rained, and drizzled, and rained, and drizzled. It was damp. I was damp. Not happy.

I also went camping in high school with a church youth group to the Rocky Mountains north of Fort Collins, Colorado. I knew I was out of my element when we were given instruction about how to ensure that our drinking water was purified, so as not to get some nasty parasite from the random mountain goats, deer, and other fauna that tend to poop in the water stream. I couldn't help but think to myself, "how lucky, I get to drink fresh water from nature's toilet, just like my cocker spaniel Abby did at home." This is why I live in the city, and vow to ALWAYS live in a city for the rest of my life.

I have to admit, it was beautiful. Then again, I think I was more mesmorized by the mountains, as I had never seen mountains in my life until that point. It was a distraction from everything else that was going on around me. Until, that is, I had to go #2.

I hate going potty outside. I'm not a dog, a cat, a mongoose, a caveman, Chuck Norris, or the like. I have issues with it, and I have no good reason as to why. I guess it's the thought that everyone would know what you're up to when you would take the shovel, the toilet paper, and head off into the woods. People knew what you're up to. I guess I felt that something like that should be something best left private, not to be broadcasted to the rest of the 15-18 year olds around you. It was embarrassing. Natural, but embarrassing.

I didn't poop for 4 days.

The last time I went camping was with the Jaycees. Again, it was hot. It was humid. I didn't sleep well, it was noisy. I woke up dewy. I thought beer or booze would have made things better. It just made me that much more uncomfortable. And I hated smelling like campfire.

I haven't been camping since.

So we get back to the camper, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post. It was a used camper. I don't know, but something about the thought of that just screams, "UNCLEAN" to me. I don't know why. It would be the LAST thing I'd ever think of buying.

Give me a hotel, a clean bathroom, air conditioning, and cable TV anytime. That's my kind of camping.

I've resigned myself to being one of the first to go if I ever have to be a survivalist, or had to be on a show like "Survivor." I'd WANT to be the first one to get booted off the island.

And, I'd never have feel dewy again.

Thank GOD.

Political Post Number 1A

Ok, so I lied.

I said I'd only post one political post about the election this year. But my friend Dan, a Major in the US Army currently stationed in Saudi Arabia (Yay! My blog's gone global!), sent this snippet to me, illustrating my point from my political post from yesterday. I thought I'd share it, since it not only is it funny, but again confirms my reason for voting Republican this year.

Here it is, and it's titled "Even Children Understand":

While visiting some friends, I was talking to their little girl, and she said she wanted to be President some day. Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, 'If you were President what would be the first thing you would do?' She replied, 'I'd give houses to all the homeless people.' Her parents were beaming with pride at her answer. 'Wow - what a worthy goal.' I told her, 'You don't have to wait until you're President to do that. You can come over to my house and mow, pull weeds, and sweep my yard,and I'll pay you $50. Then I'll take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward a new house.'

She thought that over for a few seconds 'cause she's only 6 years old. And while her Mom glared at me, she looked me straight in the eye and asked,'Why doesn't the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?' And I said, 'Welcome to the Republican Party.'

Yep. Again, how true!

Two Reasons I Won't Vote Democrat This Year

I am only going to post one entry about my thoughts about the upcoming election, so here goes...

To start off, I voted for Hillary in the primary. For anyone that knows me and knows my politics, I am a fiscal, economic, and military conservative; and social liberal. I've realized as I get older that I have drifted left over the course of about 7 years, largely due to our current administration. I hate to say this, but our president may have intelligence and capability, but boy does he sound ignorant.

After 7 years of avoiding any political news on TV, and cringing every time I hear him speak, you'd think that I would want someone more articulate: like Barack Obama. Wrong!

You may ask why. Well, I had a boss in my previous career life that was adept at dancing around issues, talking in circles, and enrapturing the masses. All the while, I was grabbing my hip-waders, as the bullshit sure got deep at times. And, nothing ever got accomplished. Well, Mr. Obama reminds me of my former boss. That man has YET to say ANYTHING substantive, and he has YET to accomplish anything in the way of legislation. Yes, he's like my boss. And I couldn't stand him either.

The two things that scare me most is first, Barack Obama has said he wants to tax oil-companies for their record profits and give it back to the American people (how, we ask, is never mentioned). A novel idea at first glance, but what makes business and our economy run? Energy. And what's a major factor in energy? Oil. And what happens when the cost of energy due to additional taxation? The price of that energy goes up. And what happens when energy prices go up? The price of transportation costs go up, which the end result means higher costs of goods and services that I, the consumer buy. And even IF (and a very big if at that) it comes in the form of tax relief (which as a single person with no dependents I have yet to see any relief), how's that going to make things better? Not only would my tax burden stay the same, but my cost of living would increase. That's reason number one.

Reason number two: the world we live in has issues, whether we like them or not. Russia v. Georgia, the sabre-rattling of Iran, the rebuilding of nuclear "stuff" in North Korea, and Darfur are all things that scare the hell out of me. The LAST thing I want is a president with absolutely ZERO military experience in the White House. Peace WON'T work when the other parties AREN'T peace-able.

It's really funny, this politics thing. All Republicans would have to do to illustrate their point about a Democrat-directed bureaucracy is to just look at how the Democrats run their primaries. With Republicans, it's winner take all, with no argument or intense negotiation. Simple, democratic, and definitive, and it gets the job of selecting a nominee done efficiently.

If you're a Democrat, on the other hand, it is quite a different story. As a candidate, you may get a majority of the primary vote in an election, but still lose in the number of delegates awarded to you. After all, the complex rules and regulations they've imposed on their party to ensure that everything's fair does everything but make it fair. Apply this intricate web of policy-creation to how Democrats have created our current social welfare reform programs. Or for that matter, those they've tried to implement in the past like national health care or welfare. It's a scary thing. And when it comes to political correctness so as not to offend anyone, let's look at California. That's a whole different planet in and of itself.

Don't even get me started on Obama's choice of church family. UGH! Is Obama the BEST the Democratic Party could come up with? Or has everyone been so starved lately of an intelligent orator that they are easily lulled into submission by the first "preacher" that comes along. To me, it insults my intelligence.

Finally, I had to laugh at a liberal commentator on TV that, after hearing Sarah Palin's acceptance speech, felt she was condescending to Barack. When that man speaks, he speaks with condescension. Further more, it was those same liberal commentators that virtually crucified Governor Palin after being announced as the VP nominee about her commitment to her family, about her experience, etc., with a condescending tone to boot.

It's very clear to me whom I am voting for. Whether you agree or not, at least I'm not the one that's going to be lulled by the pied-piper, only to be led to slaughter and sold down the river later.

No thanks.

Bad Decision

I know this will come as a surprise to some of you readers out there, but tonight, I went out.

I didn't feel much like staying home, so once again I travelled down to "the Lamplighter" (which is what my friends Dan and Jocelyn call it) to have a beer or two before retiring for the evening. It was about 9:45 pm, and a beautiful night. I arrived, and suddenly realized that there was live music on hand, though on break. I was told that it was an accoustical duo, playing guitar and...of all things...bongos.

Hey, I like Carmen Miranda, Gloria Estefan, and have watched Ricky Ricardo and his orchestra take a jaunt through some snappy Cuban numbers once or twice in my life. I was thinking that it would be interesting.

How wrong I was.

For the record, I will confess that the guitarist was quite good. In fact, more than good. He was great. The soloist/bongoist on the other hand, was quite a different matter. In fact, before writing this post, I needed to actually do some research on the bongo, to see if my thought process was correct and to really see if I knew Percussion 101. The burning question was: does one need to tune a bongo?

There were many reasons why I had to research this. After playing several tunes (most of them not familiar to me), I was getting a mind numbing headache listening to the bongos, of the likes of listening to jazz on a Friday or more likely a Saturday evening on WERN, and hearing a screechy, shrill saxophone (my LEAST favorite instrument) improvisatorily shreik during some acid jazz number. Also, when this bongoist was playing, it was just merely a random thumping, and not that pure bongo sound. Either his bongo was waterlogged from Hurricane Hanna, or he just couldn't play for.....anything. In fact, in a couple different numbers, those bongos sounded like Rosie singing the national anthem at a baseball game: fat and out of tune (and tempo). I was sure that like timpani, they must have to be tuned. And.....the verdict....

I was right. Our resident bongoist apparently didn't know that. My ears, on the other hand, did.

It was also very apparent that this person was NO Ricky Ricardo, and preferred to oversing, thereby being chronically sharp. I've mentioned Darlene Edwards before (and she sings sharper than Vermont cheddar-but at least SHE was FABULOUS-and did it on purpose), but this bearded wonder gave her a run for her money, and not in a good way. I'm sure a song like "Zombie" would have been an interesting choice.......wait.....oh yes, they did that song too. Brutal was the only word to describe what I heard.

From my observation of the crowd, I don't think anyone was too enthused about this dynamic duo either. In fact after every song, they had one person applaud (and does that really constitute "applause?"), though I lost track after 5 songs, not to mention lost interest in the process. For whatever reason, though, they felt it necessary to have an encore number (how lucky for everyone) given the magnitude of the ovation they received: some number by Jewel. I assure you, this number lacked all clarity and luster.

After two beers, I had to go home. I needed a break. I thought to myself that going out tonight was a bad decision, only to be confirmed and validated by this musical duo's name for their gig:

Bad Decision.

Guzheng: A Gu-What?

No, it's not some sort of Asian virus, or type of pork fried rice (much like one's first impression when they hear the word Hangul, for example). The China bug is hitting me hard. I have been asked often what things I would want to buy when I'm in China. Much like my culinary endeavors that I've explained in a previous "Pot Luck" post, souvenirs for me are never simple or ordinary.

Sure, I could get a bazillion t-shirts, embroidery, jade, fans, or the like. But, as a souvenir, I want something that's going to be as unusual as its owner. Take for example my trip to Morocco. I could have gotten a monkey, a donkey, a fez, or some stinky leather. But instead, I opted for a first-rate rug that is absolutely beautiful, not to mention an exquisite chalaba, shirt, pants, and shoes (traditional Moroccan garb).

Well, I have spent several months thinking about what to buy in China. This week, I thought, "why not bring home a traditional Chinese musical instrument?" After all, I have a piano performance degree, and why not get something that I will be able to treasure for years.

There were several instruments to choose. First, the erhu. It's like a two-stringed bowed instrument (like a vertical violin) that has a haunting sound to it, when played well. The problem is: I don't play the violin. My biggest fear is that if I tried to play such an instrument, I think it would either 1) loosen the fillings in my teeth hearing me play it, 2) drive my dogs to involuntarily crap on my carpet, or 3) cause the neighbors to call the cops on me thinking that the wailing sound of the instrument must mean I have a torture chamber in my house or something. After all, I remember hearing my brother try to learn the violin when he was little, and trust me, I'd prefer hearing cats screeching all evening instead.

Second, the pipa. This is a chinese mandolin. While another string instrument, again, I have no guitar skills. I'm still working on trying to play the banjo, which up until now (as I'm trying to learn it on my own) has been a complete failure, and I don't like musical failures. Hence, I don't think the pipa is a good fit, until, that is, I get a grasp of the banjo.

The third option I came across was the guzheng (pronounced goo-jung). It's a chinese zither. A lap harp by design, to me, it is the most pleasing to the ear. Tuning is much simpler (and from what I've researched, VERY much simpler), and who doesn't like the sound of a glissando from the harp. So I made up my mind. I'm going to look for one of these thingamajigs in China and ship it home.

The above clip is something that (in my opinion) shows this instrument in its finest form, not to mention, this musician is utterly amazing! It shows the virtuosity and dynamics that this instrument can possess, not to mention sound exciting in the process. I may be 92 years old by the time I would ever accomplish playing something like this in the event I should find one. But, we all have things to aspire to, don't we?

Enjoy the clip, and let me know what your thoughts are!