A cold but beautifully clear morning in the town of Loughton. Sitting in the Last Post, formerly a post office – hence the wonderfully witty name – and about to enjoy the benefits of a little Wetherspoons cuisine. The fayre tends to be cheap and cheerful, but fits my needs of the moment. I have but a few hours to go before setting off once more for the joys of Heathrow Airport and the eleven and a half hour flight to Guangzhou. As ever, there are a few odds and sods to sort out at the last moment but, as ever, I am surprised with just how simple such undertakings are in this day and age. Visa, insurance and tickets in place, all that remains is the collection of a little cash, the purchase of a couple of presents and suchlike, and….that's it!
Once more I set out with the intent of learning Mandarin, once more I would guess the resolution will last for just a few weeks, once more though I will find that I am improving, even if progress feels disconcertingly slow at times. In some areas in life, I can be quite an academic learner, but with languages all that really seems to work for me is constant exposure and a receptive mood. Chinese, in particular, seems a very difficult language to learn if one approaches it via books or other more conventional means. Day to day interaction, on the other hand, seems to gradually coalesce into an almost unconsciously learned ability. The language itself is something of a challenge as it is so fundamentally different to any other language that Westerners would be routinely exposed to. On the other hand, in many ways it has an almost disarming simplicity as well. If one looks at a direct translation of Chinese words, one is struck by the sheer sparsity of the language; it seems to be cut down to the point that it reminds one of the type of wording ubiquitously employed in the sending of telegraph messages, or perhaps the modern equivalent, texting.
My relationship with China and the Chinese remains ambiguous, so much so in fact that I scarcely know whether I am looking forward to the journey or dreading certain aspects. Certainly the levels of air pollution one routinely experiences are no great attraction but, on the other hand, the rather pleasant thought of enjoying the oh so much richer, and oh so much healthier, food of China is very alluring. Having spent a month in the UK, the thought of eating Chinese cuisine again rather than what passes for food in this gastronomic wasteland is enough to start the salivary glands happily doing what they do best at the prospect.
One wonders whatever happened to the British in this regard. Other nations developed a wonderful range of mouth-watering delights whilst the British remained obsessed with such mundane fayre as fish and chips or pie and mash or, pushing the envelope of culinary creativity to the outer limits, sausage and mash. The only light in the darkness of the the British food firmament seems to be provided by the importation of foreign food, the almost ubiquitous Chinese, Indian, Greek or Turkish restaurants that are found on almost every self-respecting High Street in the UK. Even these oases of comestible indulgence are often outnumbered by Americanised fast-food joints, the horrors of McDonalds, Wimpys and, perish the thought, KFC (There was an almost credible rumour doing the rounds that the latter had to change their name from Kentucky Fried Chicken because there was not actually sufficient chicken content in their 'chicken' to merit the name…).
As pointed out in a previous blog, the damage done to the average Brit by succumbing to the offerings of the purveyors of multinational fast-food are all too self-evident. Indeed, another pleasant part of returning to China is simply being amongst a people who seem both able to enjoy their food (something of an obsession in China) and yet manage, for the most part, to do it in far healthier ways that are currently the case in the UK.
Time to finish up for another week. At the conclusion of this week's offering I find myself sitting on a rather hard wooden bench in the arrivals area (slightly less crowded) of Heathrow terminal 4. As the flight desk is about to open, and as my time is limited on this system, I fear I must bid a hasty farewell for now and submit this particular offering sans the usual editing and proof-reading. Apologies for any errors incurred by submitting to this unseemly haste (not at all my usual habit!), but, as the saying has it, needs must when the devil drives!
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