In the Business of Burgers

Wandering down darkened streets and gazing out over the river, I see the moon, red through the haze of the smog the factories pump into the skies late at night, when no one cares to watch. It makes me sad, a little, but I can’t change anything about it at the moment, so I let it pass. Up on the river walk, there is a small stone table with a place to sit. The shadows swallow it in darkness. Men and women mill about below, moving in and out of the brightly lit (and questionably-staffed—i.e. "Looking for a good time?" Yeeaaahhh... YOU know.) Polaris Club. But no one could see me up here, not even if they were looking.

I sit down. It’s cold. I zip my jacket, pull the collar up close about my neck, and begin to think of home.

It’s a funny thing. Nearly two months, now, I have been as far removed from home as… well, as I have ever been. Far from the places I know best. Far from the things I have come to care about. And far, very far, from most every person I love.

And yet…

And yet.

Still, miss it though I do (and I do miss it all, every last bit, including all the trivialities, such as readily available cheeseburgers and sweet tea, and a little thing called Davidson basketball), I have felt no sensation of pain, no sense of the desperate, awful longing that has gripped me before, in my other (much less severe) experiences with self-removal.

So what does that mean, I wonder? At this point, I can’t really say. As I have said before, I feel awakened here, and happy, and changing, though perhaps not so radically as I once envisioned. I find, at the end of the day, that I am still me. Many things that have given me joy in the past still give me the same.

Early this week, I had a couple of days off (the kids had their midterm exams). I took the opportunity to hop a 3-hour bus to the provincial capitol, Hefei. One of the teachers from our sister campus across town, an older Canadian fellow named Paul (whom you might remember from my exploits in the bar across the street), elected to accompany me and show me several key points of local knowledge.

First, and undeniably most important, was our trip to the Novotel. Why, you might ask, is the Novotel so special? Because, my friends, the Novotel has a restaurant where they serve a bacon cheeseburger—yes, a REAL bacon cheeseburger. Twelve ounce beef patty, four thick slabs of bacon, tomato, mozzarella cheese, (let’s not forget the four thick slabs of bacon and twelve ounce beef patty), and of course, ketchup.

And yes. It was everything I hoped it could be.


Mmmmm. Come to meeeee…

Honestly, the rest of the trip is kind of a blur after that. But I did experience Hefei, I got a sharp pair of gloves, and I got away to a different part of China for a bit, which is never a bad thing. In a couple weeks time, I’ll be heading through Hefei again to get to Shanghai (and I’ll probably stop for another burger, of course), but I’ll wait to write about that particular bridge until I’ve gone and crossed it…

Hmm. You know, I will say this: I’ve fallen into a rather introspective mood of late, which oddly enough does not translate into nearly so many journal entries as one might expect (and it also leaves this particular one wondering how well words can really serve to express something, when push comes to shove).

Best I can say, though… all is as it should be, because, well… bah. How else could it be?

And yes. I did take a 6-hour round trip and blow around a hundred bucks just to get a good cheeseburger. And I’d do it again. Sue me, I am who I am.

Anyway, at long last I’m blowing the cobwebs off my writing again, eager to take another crack at revising the story I wrote with some added life mileage to back it up. Hell, maybe I’ll even find it in me to crank out another one. I’ve already tossed a few totally random ideas around with friends that grew legs in my head without any intention on my part.

The catalyst for all this, of course, took place in Hefei (after I was inspired—no—enlightened—by cheeseburger nirvana), where, in the midst of a late night talk with Paul in our hotel room, I suddenly realized what the hell my story is actually about. Not, you must understand, because it was on my mind for any particular reason, but because Paul asked about it, and the explanation simply fell out of my mouth.

And it is this.

It is a fashioning of the Biblical end, as brought about by men. By our own hands, as it were. An oppressive, corporate, global government is the beginning. From the minds of men who care only for themselves, the Beast is born, with many heads and many faces. And ruin is the end. But is there hope? Wait and see.

Ok, ok, fine. Well, it makes sense to me, damn it. Paul seemed to get it. I even got chills when I figured out what exactly it was I had been writing about. Hey, you shut up. I know it’s stupid.

Unfortunately, with this new understanding, I have a whole lot of work to do.

But then, I have a whole lot of time.

On that note, before I leave you to resume my tinkering, here are a few selected pictures of Hefei, and the landscape north of Anqing.









Have a good one on the bright side, folks.