Wet Weather

I made it out to Mao's Live House again this week. I went and got dinner with my flattie and some of her "friends". I use the inverted comas not to question their friendship but to emphasise a distinction made by foreigners between their "friends" and their "Chinese friends". If we're going out with "friends", there's an assumption that they'll be whitey Westerners, we'll speak in English, eat Western food and generally ignore the fact we're in China. There's a few different types of foreigner behaviour here. This is just one. But with this particular group of friends it was exaggerated, even to the point where the Chinese boyfriend of one of the friends was barely spoken to all night and he sat there reading a magazine. I guess I would have tried harder if it didn't seem like the sort of situation where I'd be accused of cutting in on someone. It's shitty, real shitty.

We went and sat on the rooftop terrace of Fish Nation, ordered fish and chips and some cider. One of the girls confessed it was her second time that week to go eat fish and chips there. Moved inside at the first whiff of a hint of rain and continued to listen to tales of sexual frustration in this nations capital. It is probably about the most boring topic of conversation imaginable. Makes you want to jump up on your chair and with great gesticulation bellow "You're not getting any sex because you walk around like a dried up psychopath and become a social retard whenever a guy is around!!" There is no excuse in Beijing. Plenty of foreigners, plenty of nightlife. We went to leave and discovered it was absolutely pissing with rain. The biggest soggiest raindrops you've ever seen soaked the streets and I got to run barefoot through the wet all the way up to Mao's Live House, about 4 minutes away. I dried off as best I could in Mao's with a serviette but it was pretty futile. I was wet. No biggie. I was kinda confused at how it went down at Mao's with these Aussie ladies and the Chinese boyfriend. We made it to the upstairs area, only myself and my flattie had bought a drink and we sat up there and practiced our English for a while. "Aren't we here to see some bands?" I thought, but these guys were too caught up in their conversation on Chinese tax law to bother so I went downstairs to the band room alone. I can always feel the air twitch when I enter somewhere alone in China. China is weird and more conservative than you'd think.




So fair enough, the first band was spectacularly terrible and I wondered how they ever got a gig there. The keyboardists spine also seemed to have invented a new joint somewhere between his navel and nipples and could bend in ways that a spine really shouldn't. I love it when Chinese guys take their shirts off though. It reminds me of having a bath with my brother when he was 11. So the shit band ended and I strolled back upstairs to see the guys again. Still sitting there, still talking tax. I could hear other bands setting up but still these guys wouldn't budge. As we all made it back downstairs an hour later I realised what the score was. We were standing around and then some Nordic-looking douche comes on stage and mispronounces "Ni hao" while grinning widely. He promptly launched into a boring 15 minute drum solo much to the applause of the audience. Some other white lady came on and sang along to some abominable Electro/Folk shite and the crowd couldn't get enough. It was then I realised we were here to see the white people play. They sucked just as hard as the first guys, but they were headlining and we were all meant to be impressed they were playing in Beijing, China! I realised my companions seemingly had contempt for Chinese performers and that foreignness is enough to get you a gig here. I already had a good hunch, but I know when I get my Mandarin punk band of hot foreign girls happening it's going to bring Beijing to it's knees.





I left after 3 or 4 songs of the headliner before I killed the crowd, the band and then turned a gun on myself and wandered down the street to get my bike. The rain had slowed and the streets that were drowning with storm water earlier were back to normal. No cleaner looking, just slightly damp. The closer I got to my bike, the heavier the rain became until I was putting the key in my locks with water teaming down my face. I was still committed to riding home and hadn't really done much riding that day so I was keen for the ridiculous mission home. Riding angry after a frustrating and lame night I went hammering it up ZhangZiZhong Street, rain hitting my face and beading off my cheeks. I couldn't help but start laughing as a was riding. The smile was soon wiped of my dial when I was nearly cleaned up by a giant SUV pulling out of a side street. The fucker didn't look to see me coming, but I was riding too fast up the wrong side of the road. But still, you don't want to hit a foreigner, Mr Chinese Man.

I figured a good ride in the rain might do my bike some good, clean her up a little. I was completely saturated after 5 minutes in the deluge but still having a great time. It's 30-35'C here so I wasn't cold despite it being past midnight and being soaking wet. The rain was coursing down my face as I rode, my hair wetter than if I had just washed it. The rain ran down my brow and into my eyes. I had to stop more than once because of the stinging acid rain against my eyeballs. The other Chinese people on the roads didn't seem to be having this problem and I cursed these damn large round eyes of mine.

I pulled into my apartment block and locked my bike outside only to be joined seconds later by my flattie who had only just pulled up in her taxi. I told you I ride faster than cars. :D