the view from above

Work was brutish, really. Watched 4 hours of graphic gang/prison documentary episodes. I like my job but sometimes... Well, lets just say I prefer not to go into the topics I had to observe tonight. That kind of material drains the hope and humanity right out of you, to see how evil people can be and how cheap life can be valued.
Moving on...
I did leave a story un-continued a few entries back. I've been debating whether to continue that but in the end I think I've just decided to go write freely. Even if no one reads it, I think I'll be glad to have written it and verbalized(without speaking aloud?) thoughts I'd like to remember.
I was really nervous about going to China to stay with my girlfriend's family for 7 weeks. I just kept thinking 7 weeks is too long, especially for a first visit. But this is the way it happened. I couldn't afford a ticket leaving in December, near Christmas, and I was somewhat determined not to spend Christmas alone again this year. The previous year had been close to one of the worst Christmas' ever.
My gal told me I was welcome at her place for as long as I wanted to stay. i hoped her parents shared the sentiment, still thinking I'd be overstaying my welcome.
After a long flight we arrived and her Mom and Dad met us at the airport. I tried to look friendly and smile at them but they really avoided looking at me or directing any attention at me whatsoever. What did I expect, they didn't speak any English and I can't speak Cantonese or Mandarin. I also expected there might be a cultural thing here. The Chinese are not exactly an intimate type. My girl (what should I call here here, how about Mei?), Mei told me that she hadn't actually hugged either of her parents since she was a small child. They were very casual in talking to her, not even smiling, certainly not hugging or touching. But there was a certain air of calm contentedness.
I was made very welcome when we arrived at the apartment (in china, almost everyone lives in apartments, but they are usually quite large, almost more like townhomes). Her parents owned two apartments, and a home in the village they grew up in, and a small factory that had living quarters as well). Now by western standards, I'm not sure where they would fit in, but by chinese standards, I think they are doing quite well. I mean, just to apply for the University here in NZ, Mei needed to have $80,000 in an account for 6 months to prove she had sufficient means to live here. I don't have that kind of money. And to the common Chinese, that is well, impossible practically. But Mei's parents were anything but aristocracy. They started at the age 18 & 19 with nothing and built up their business from scratch, paving out their life all the way. They had come from humble origins. Certainly, it's not like they would be impressed by the mere fact that I am a westerner, as most of the Chinese might be. I mean, there are beautiful girls with families that would throw their daughter at any westerner in the hopes of getting her into a better life. This was not the case here. Mei's family had more money than me and certainly she didn't need me to live in a westernized country. This is actually a real blessing in a way. In my mind it meant, one, Mei was not interested in me for those reasons, two, her parents would judge me in a reasonable fashion and if, IF, I earned their approval, it would mean a lot more to me. In essence, no one was chasing my passport. My passport, being U.S. was not so much an asset anyway, as I reside in NZ, and marrying me by no means grants instant residency in NZ, although it might give a few extra points on the application.
Mei's Dad was somewhat distant, never addressing me or interacting with me. Mei's Mom was a different story entirely. As soon as we arrived home, she began directly communicating to me, or towards me I should say, as I couldn't understand a thing she said. This did little to stop her. Worse, Mei seemed reluctant to translate half, partly because it was a chore, and partly because, well, maybe she didn't want me to know what her Mom was going on about. Even when Mei left, her Mom constantly talked to me, asking me questions. I tried to guess what her meaning was, sometimes pantomiming in response. She would just laugh and dismiss me at such times. At times, I'd imagine she was trying to discuss very deep and important things, like, 'how do you intend to treat my daughter?, will you take care of her?' and then Mei would return and I'd learn her Mom had just been asking me what I wanted for dinner.
We spent a lot of time alone, me and her Mom, mostly on the balcony, or the Lo-toy, as they called it. She would cut me up segments of sugarcane, and we'd sit there trying to communicate or just enjoying the evening cacophony of everyone returning from work. Maybe sometimes she was asking me about deep things, to which I often shrugged and chewed on my sugarcane.
A few times I thought of telling in my limited mandarin "I really love your daughter". But I thought better seeing the way they played emotions close to the chest like they did. In china, being too open with your emotions could lead a lose of "Face" in ways I couldn't understand. In all, I settled that it was enough that I was simply comfortable sitting there spending time with her, letting her chat to me as she would to a dog or plant that couldn't respond in any logical dialog. I was glad we could be like that.
That ease never quite came with her dad except on maybe two occasions, one when he was slightly drunk, and two when we were gambling at the casino in Macao. But both times were enough to satisfy me that he did not seriously object to my presence. The final seal of approval came(in my mind), when we were traveling and stayed the night in a hotel. They put me and Mei alone together in a room. This is China we are talking about, a very traditionalist society in most respects. They were letting this strange western guy, or rather accepting the fact that he, would be sleeping with their only daughter that night.
This is in fact more liberal than my parents would have been about it.
The casino in Macao was a lot of fun. I won, and kept winning. I don't gamble, really, at all. I was able to grasp this game, I don't know the game, but the essence is, they roll the dice, and you can bet a variation of different outcomes with corresponding odds, the simplest of which was Large (in cantonese DAI) or Small (SAI). Then you could bet on a certain number, like 11, and if the dice came up with this, you'd get 5 or 6 times your bet. It was terribly addicting and I'm glad I was winning, or else I might have lost a tremendous amount in the excitement of the moment. But win I did, and big. I kept choosing the numbers, 11, 8, 13, 15, etc... and somehow miraculously kept winning. The hong dollars were tripling, and quadrupling faster than I could tally. My at-first empty table soon became the busiest table around, everyone copying the bets I placed and chanting, then consequently screaming and yelling in jubilee. People latched onto me, patting me on the back like I was their new found best friend. I'd place my bet, and calmly say "Sai...". Would it be Sai? the last five bets had come out Dai.. the chant started, "Sai, Sai, Sai, SAI, SAI, SAI", the dice rolled, and "SAI!!!!!" Even Mei's dad joined into the chant, uncharacteristically exhibiting an outbusrt of emotion, yelling "Sai-a!!!!"
Afterwards, the family let me buy them lunch, which turned out the be the one occasion in my whole stay they allowed me such an honor. I was a success.

Well, I better stop there tonight. I'll go on with part 3 in the next entry or maybe the one or two after, in order to give myself space to breath. Thanks to anyone who reads. I know I write way way too much!
Bye for now.