Don't joke the monkeys.

I have to apologize, dear blog, for the lack of correspondence between us as of late.  As I type this, I have a cold and feel that out of laziness, I will use that as an excuse to sum up the entirety of my absence.  In reality, it's been exhaustion, day trips and an overall increase in my diligence towards studying(!).  Since I last wrote you, I have had a few more adventures in China.  Following the wedding and car show that I partook in, I used the money to purchase a saxophone.  Hopefully I'll be using this to play some gigs in the future but I've come to the conclusion that it's souvenir enough to make me content just to take it home and look at it, remembering the absurdity of the way I got it - and of the instrument itself.  To sum it into a single word, I'd call it "gaudy."  Caution, the below picture is not for the faint of heart.

That's right.  It's pink.  In China, the more different you appear, the more exotic and high class you MUST be.  And a pink saxophone is pretty... or rather, pretty different.

But there were, in fact, other contributing factors.  This was one of the cheaper horns which is good since it's not impossible that it gets trashed on the flight home, even as a carry on.  Who knows?  Maybe someday, I'll have some daughter cherish this pink panther sax.

However, this endeavor reawakened the business major in me that had been quiet for nearly a semester.  So in order to help fund my new saxophone, I have begun to tutor a 6 year old on Sundays.  As an American, you might think that 6 is a little early to start tutoring sessions, but don't worry - it's only for an hour.  After that it's back to ping pong practice which he has three days a week, piano which he has once a week, and calligraphy class.  He has other activities, his mother assures me, but either due to translation problems or memory, they currently escape me.

So last Sunday was our first meeting and this coming Sunday will be our official tutoring sessions.  (Consisting of playing with cars and pretending to shoot each others' car till they explode - oddly enough explosions sound the same in every language.)  However during this past week, I've gone on an overnight class trip to Emei Shan, a gorgeous mountain.  There are many amazing things about Emei Shan - you can get to a certain peak that, at sunrise casts your shadow with a halo around you for a couple minutes about 70 times a year; it has some spectacular waterfalls and some pretty cool temples.  However, something it is notorious for though, is its monkeys.

"Caution the aggressive monkeys here. don't joke the monkeys.

A couple days ago, the idea of a monkey to me, was an adorable, slender creature - round eyes, kind and hilarious in any given situation.  There will be no such monkeys in this blog.  These monkeys, were fat.  They were ugly, grotesque.  They had tumors large enough to contain multiple types of cancer.  But don't think that my feelings for them stem from looks alone.  I'd show you pictures, but I didn't have time to take any.  (That and I was warned of their tendency towards theft of personal property.)  These monkeys assaulted us.  Emei Staff were situated every 5 meters or so to threaten and in some cases, hit monkeys with bamboo sticks when they - not "should they," but when they - jumped onto your head.  Tears were shed, blood was spilled.  It is said that animals sense fear;  well apparently, they also sense your desire to not have their teeth inside your body.  That doesn't dissuade them, however, and I've officially witnessed one too comrades fall victim to a hostile, monkey engagement. They came out with bites and scratches to say the least.  Those will fade with time, but one thing will reign supreme in my mind with regard to that day.  Never go up to a monkey, with a stick, yelling, "Come at me, Bro, come at me!"