Money to Burn

Walk I did, finding a lovely park nearby and then a path along a canal. A few men swimming in it and a few fishing, a few jogging on the path, a few people biking. The most humidity I’ve felt all summer and coming back to the hotel somewhat sweat-drenched. That, alongside being amongst people who didn’t look like me, brought me back to the welcome travels in India, Indonesia, Bangkok, Ghana and it was a good feeling. That sense of not being in Kansas anymore. Even more so as the hotel folks don’t speak English, so it’s back to pantomime, peppered with a Google translator device that actually works pretty well—they speak into it and a Siri-like voice gives me a comprehensible English translation. And vice-versa.

 

Little snapshots include various badminton games, a ballroom dancing class in the park, lovely weeping willow trees and little scooters—and I got to ride on the back of one as my host picked me up to look at the workshop site. An enormous gymnasium room, with some 25 Orff instruments, assorted percussion, a full drum set and a baby grand piano. Terrible non-resonant floor that will not be great for body percussion, but so it goes. And with 100 people signed up, maybe it’s just as well! Not thrilled with that number, especially as I forgot to stipulate additional salary for every 10 people over 50. But more for the difficulty of achieving the intimacy of the best Orff gatherings. Not only impossible for all to learn each other’s names, but terribly unfriendly to the idea of each person improvising something around the circle! Yes, there are strategies to divide into smaller circles, but still impossible for the whole group to hear. Again, so it goes. 

 

Off to the same vegetarian restaurant after visiting the workshop site, with my request that there be fewer dishes so no food be wasted. So it was and I’m in vegetarian heaven with the greens, mushrooms, small bowl of rice and soups. 

Driving back to the hotel, I noted little fires everywhere on sidewalks and wondered if people were cooking. Winnie, my 12-year-old English-speaking host’s daughter, told me that these are homages to people who have recently died and that people are burning paper money to send them to their heavenly home with good wishes. Of course, I wanted to double-check about this custom on Google, but oops!, still no access. So it goes. 

 

Now off to bed, hopefully to get enough sleep to teach 100 people for 6 hours tomorrow.  (8/18)