Leave Me Alone

With an age-old habit of strict hierarchy, and a turbulent complexion, India is ape to leave an impression of simplex and xenophobia, which, as a matter of fact, turns out to be the opposite. At the very early stage of the history, it has merged various cultures and religions in to a mix, which could be proved by the stone carvings, architectures we paid tribute to during the trip. In modern ages, this country carries on the merging practice and becomes more open. An awareness to change and develop they’ve already acquired may well promises a quick boom.

Pics have more voices over the scripts.

Akbar’s Tomb

Taj Mahal

Unknown Palace :P

In a country of slow beat, you really need to spice things up. On talking about the Indian cuisine, curry shall be the very and best represent. As the most favorable seasoning, Indian curry is slightly different from the household knowledge. Thick and hot, the sauce is a mix of all sorts of heavy-flavored ingredients like capsicum and pepper.

Indians have fairly strong tastes. Foods from appetizer to main course, from soup to desserts are either too sweet or too salty. I was almost chocked to death by a glutinous-ball-liked stuff soaked in syrup. Can’t believe they call that dessert? Caution! Those who suffer high blood pressure and sugar should never dare to challenge.

Traditional Indian foods are mostly served in mash, good for digestion yet not so for appetite, which reminds me of puke whatsoever. Mutton and chicken are the main course for a non-veg diet. For religious sake, pork and beef could be found no where on the menu, leaving no more choices for us predators. What a depression.

It is said the local people use bare hands to feed, but we didn’t see with own eyes. Most of the restaurants offer knife and fork, sometimes chopsticks as well. That’s much a relief.

Bullets left gun slower than the train whooshed, leaving no time for us to think about the way back in this ‘migrant season’. We bet all hats on this one way trip, in a hope to squeeze into anything vehicular running backwards the very next day, which end up in a big fuss fighting with suffocatingly stinky crowds for the last few tickets.

Flanked by Zhenjiang and Yangzhou, the Yangtze slims through silently. With Runyang Bridge performing a hand shake of the two, we did save much time on traffic.

Waking up the next morning, we called on Zhenjiang for Jinshan Temple, the exact setting of ‘the Legend of the White Snake’. Temple, the least place I’d love to visit, looks everywhere the same——luxurious decorations, overflowing donation boxes, idling monks and chocking incenses all round. Bored then, how about a Taoist idol in a Buddhist temple? And that’s what the dippy baldicoots here did, speaking unreligiously.

Done with the temple stuff, an overlook to the Yangtze purifies your soul, at least it helped me breath normally. Miles apart from the smoky land lies a lonely island, rinsed by the river and inspired with breeze. Stand on top of it, and it makes a saint of thee. Pretty cool, huh? That’s the Jiaoshan Park it is.

Rushing about for two days, it’s time to take a rest and call an end, with second thoughts to the harsh battle edging into the coach back. By the way, I fell asleep on the seat that night, did anyone catch me snoring? 

It didn’t quite measure up to my expectation, that the index practiced a steep fall, bringing the market down to the jumping-off. There’s no sign for a rebound which the public craned for.

While subscription by funds microcopies the turbulence of stock market, it hurts anyway. As the door turns the other side, we may well hold on, pick the favorable quotation during the recession and then bide our time. No fancy for excess windfall, nor getting so trapped and starving on the breadline. Slowly but surely, the green fog fades.

Nothing but the harsh times and the shrinking pockets can best frighten the speculators away from the risky market. We’d be in the clear without the mass granny share holders speculating on rises and falls only for an additional stir-fried cabbage on everyday menu. So be optimistic, for the would-be rising tendency ahead.

It was not red years ago and still not as I saw it the 3rd time. For decades, we call it ‘the red boat’ because of its CPC label. In this case, I’m red too.

Grooving on the winter chill, we arrived at Jiaxing with a local drizzle. A trip like that somehow made up for the were-to-be annual tour to Yangzhou plus a crab meal.

The lake, island, boats remained unchanged. So did the memorial center and the crowds of students making the oath, which reminded me of my youth.

Well, nice CPC stuffs, red boat and drizzle things above. Anyway, I do enjoy the zongzi with yolk in it.

Is it winter, logically or meteorologically? Don’t get me wrong. I’m not gonna talk about the weather, but the ruttish cat shagging and troating at wrong place and wrong time of the year.

The cat is black all over, except for the glittery eyes that break the night cover. Being the house-owner’s property, it has more voice over me. The day I moved in, it shared my bed with me as I fell asleep, leaving a big load of pee on my sheet.

Weeks ago, it began to sing love songs all night long, fight with invader cats, and do the noisy things they were supposed to do in spring. One can hardly hold the hormone secretion, sleeping with erotic shagging behind closed door, if not deaf.