If you don’t get the subject line, you’ve likely not called me in China.
That’s right folks… I hadn’t mentioned my secret plans, but I was resting whether I actually went to Australia or just returned to Canada on who called me first – someone from Welland or someone from Melbourne (I’m discounting my Aunt Peggy, because she’s just thoughtful like that). Australia wins! (thank god, this damn visa’s costing me a fortune).
So yeah, I just got off the phone with Cass and I am again left with the extremely guilty knowledge that the number of times she’s called me, in no less than three different countries, far exceeds the number of times I’ve called her.
However, I have written about her online a helluva lot more times than she’s written about me.
The real funny part about the phone call was that when I picked it up my mind was tuned in to listening for what Chinese person it was… so for about 5 seconds (and a somewhat brute ‘who’s this?’) I thought Cass was Chinese. But her tones are way off.
I know I sound a bit cheez saying it… but man was it good to talk to her. It always is (she’s pretty damn amazing), but living here you tend to forget that there’s a real live world going on out there with actual people moving around in it that aren’t spitting compulsively or staring at you endlessly. I mean e-mail does the trick for reminding me that people are alive, but a call puts some blood into it.
Tomorrow I’m heading to Kaifaqu with Karen and Mandy. I’m not entirely sure of my logic when I asked them to come shopping with me and help me buy clothes. A) I’m not certain that Chinese fashion sense is a good choice and B) I have my doubts that this will turn into anything more than me following them around to a whole lot of shops a bit devoid of male-based items.
Well, I’ve got a really nasty e-mail to write to Greyhound Bus Lines about some Christmas presents of mine they lost and refuse to owe up to.