Innoculations, Noise, Nanluo Guxiang

Today was fairly packed:

I had to go to the embassy clinic to get a rabies booster. That in itself wasn’t much, but I snagged two copies of what I imagine to be a WHO classic, their “Rabies Awareness” booklet. The pictures are pretty priceless, but unfortunately our scanner is broken. A little dialogue snippet will give you the picture though:

Nervous curly-haired boy: What will happen to a person who has been bitten?

Inexplicably short, bald veterinarian: When the virus reaches the brain, the patient suffers from headaches, fever, muscle pains, salivation and vomiting. He becomes restless, irritable, drools and starts to fear water. He may also be sensitive to air blown on his face. This stage lasts a few days before the patient goes into a coma and dies.

Hot and Cold jammed or practiced, whatever it is that we do. It sounded good. Then, true to form, it just got too fucking loud, and we had to stop. I had fun coming up with shameless Velvet Underground / Modern Lovers rip-off riffs on distorted keyboard though. Also, we did some recording tests using a Fisher-Price boombox that I bought for Simon at Value Village. I think that’s how we’re going to record the next ullltra limited edition CDR we make.

I also biked out to Nanluo Guxiang, which is a cool little side street (hutong) in an area northwest of the diplomatic district where I live. It’s near the ancient drum and bell towers that were used to keep the time in the era before countdowns to the Olympics brought to you by Omega watches.

The first time I went to the narrow street was in 2006, and it was either rubble-under-construction or worn cobblestones. Last summer, I had the sinking (elitist) feeling that the alley’s quaint coolness had been destroyed and sweaty British tourists with dubious taste in sunglasses had taken advantage of the newly paved street, snagging the place as their own.

This time around, though, it just felt like a trendy little spot. Nanluo Guxiang is lined with little music and clothing shops, restaurants and cafes, and groups of old Chinese guys huddled around folding tables with their shirts rolled up over their stomaches, talking shit and playing chess.

There were also lots of Chinese kids, I guess about my age, taking pictures of the old guys and other quaintnesses that caught their eyes. This was pretty interesting, because I’d never really seen young people in China going around cool neighbourhoods taking arty shots before, or show interest in belligerent-looking old guys. (How we love that in Montreal!).

A new little toy shop had opened, selling metal wind up old-school robots and stuffed animals from My Neighbour Totoro. Highlight: the cat bus, with a tail you could pull to make it vibrate. Oh, Japan.

The purpose of my outing had mostly been to check out a cafe I had heard about, called Alba. The open front room was full, so I clambered up a slanted ladder staircase to the barn-loft-style second floor, plugged the electric fan in, and sat and read. There was a small window you could crawl to  that had a  cool view of the street’s power lines (I’m not being sarcastic) and the surrounding area of one-story buildings. I will be back. And if you come to Beijing,  I will take you.