Monday, October 29, 2012
My self-esteem has suffered a blow this morning. I discovered I'm illiterate. Yes, this same individual with a Master's degree who can verbally express himself and has for years, is "individually illiterate." How did I come to this conclusion? It's not my conclusion but that of a Time magazine editor named Jeffrey Kluger. Permit me to set this in context.
This morning I was reading a blog from Time magazine and was intrigued by a story concerning the Italian geologists who were convicted of failing to accurately predict an earthquake. Mr. Kluger began his editorial with a sentence that captured my attention; "Yesterday was a very good day for stupid — better than any it’s had in a while." You've got to admit, that's a great opening line. In fact, "stupid" has not had so much attention since Forrest, Forrest Gump's famous line, " Mama always says, 'Stupid is as stupid does.'" Who doesn't enjoy a great stupid line? So Mr. Kluger had me at "yesterday." I even agreed with him--for a little while. Read how he elaborated:
"Stupid gets fewer good days in the 21st century than it used to get, but it enjoyed a great ride for a long time — back in the day when there were witches to burn and demons to exorcise and astronomers to put on trial for saying that the Earth orbits around the sun.
But yesterday was a reminder of stupid’s golden era, when an Italian court sentenced six scientists and a government official to six years in prison on manslaughter charges, for failing to predict a 2009 earthquake that killed 300 people in the town of l’Aquila. The defendants are also required to pay €7.8 million ($10 million) in damages."
Who could disagree with his assessment of the stupidity perpetuated by the Italian Court. (I use big words like perpetuate when I'm fighting feelings of illiteracy.) This guy was on a roll and I read on, only to be confronted by my illiteracy. As he wrote, he elaborated on the expanding base of ignorance and used as proof a study of Generation X, "finding that only 43% of Gen Xers (53% of males and 32% of females) can correctly identify a picture of a spiral galaxy — or know that we live in one." I'm not sure how troubling this should be for the average American. Surely we can continue to exist without our younger generation knowing how to identify a spiral galaxy. And, he agrees with me. What I find disturbing is how he transitions into other areas of knowledge and accepts theory as fact. Read on, my fellow illiterates. (Oh, you didn't know you were an illiterate too. Perhaps you are not--read on to make your own determination.)
"Certainly, it’s possible to move successfully through life without that kind of knowledge. “Knowing your cosmic address is not a necessary job skill,” concedes study author Jon D. Miller of the University of Michigan, in a release accompanying the report. But not knowing it does suggest a certain lack of familiarity with the larger themes of the physical universe — and that has implications. It’s of a piece with the people who believe humans and dinosaurs co-existed, or the 50% of Americans who do not believe that human beings evolved from apes, or the 1 on 5 who, like Galileo’s inquisitors, don’t believe the Earth revolves around the sun.
More troubling than these types of individual illiteracy are the larger, population-wide ones that have a direct impact on public policy."
And there you have it--unless you believe we evolved from apes you are an individual illiterate.
Being the wounded soul that I now am, I double checked the meaning of illiterate and discovered the following definitions:
1. offensive term: an offensive term meaning not able to read or write.
2. uneducated: having or showing little or no knowledge of a particular subject.
3. making many language mistakes: full of or making many basic errors in the use of language.
Perhaps I have a few language mistakes in this rant, but Word proof check hasn't found any (that have not been corrected). I am able to read and write--this document being proof. So the grounds for my illiteracy reside in having or showing little or no knowledge of a particular subject--the subject being evolution.
How does Mr. Kluger know I have little or no knowledge of the subject? How does he know every one of the 50% of Americans who do not accept evolution have little or no knowledge of the subject? He doesn't!
I would also venture to guess he has no knowledge of a white paper written by my friend, the late Dr. Robert Holwerda. Bob was a professor of organic chemistry at Texas Tech University and prepared a paper called "To Know and Believe." Bob believed in creation and used scientific evidence as proof. He didn't just accept creation on blind faith, he did his research and did not find his intellectualism and scientific studies to be in conflict with his faith. Was Bob also illiterate? Not by any reasonable person's evaluation.
Perhaps we've reached a day where people no longer choose to be reasonable. Perhaps the evolutionists are so frustrated at being unable to come up with conclusive evidence that disputes the Bible that they've resorted to "offensive terms" for those of us who choose to not accept their theories. It is my hope that we "illiterates" will not be intimidated by their labels, nor will we resort to their offensive language in our arguments.
One other thing I'm remembering this day is the name used to describe the followers of Jesus Christ, Christian. It was not a term we chose for ourselves but rather a name placed upon us by non believers. It was a term of derision, not of affection. It was meant as an insult. So today I'm remembering the history of the followers of Jesus Christ, am embracing my new title and proud to be an illiterate. Or, at least that's my story and I'm sticking with it, for now.
Jim Gerlt
B. A., M.Div, Ill. (In case you didn't figure it out, the Ill. stands for Illiterate)
Monday, August 23, 2010
Oops
Back in May I was committed to blogging again. Got busy and again forgot my password. I did publish a blog on www.tumbler1.blogspot.com last week for our 40th anniversary because I couldn't remember this password. Tonight I got serious and remembered my password and WROTE IT DOWN. So, again I'll attempt to blog. Check both tumbler blogs for ramblings and ruminations of The Tumbler.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
I'm Baaacccckkkkk
A funny thing happened on the way to my last post. I forgot my password. (Yes, I'm getting old and senile--this proves it.) After getting stranded in Beijing for a few days and arriving back in good ole Lubbock 4 days late, life got busy. Day after day I thought of blogging, but life was hectic and I delayed. Then, months later, when I got the bug to blog, I couldn't remember my password. The blog offered to e-mail me my password, but another problem. I'd changed my e-mail provider. BUMMER! Couldn't get the reminder of my password. After a few failed attempts at guessing the password, I did the only reasonable thing--I started a new blog site. Thus was born
www.tumbler1.blogspot.com
which now has about 7 postings. Tonight my son challenged me to try again, and after about the fourth try, I got lucky and remembered the password. So I'm back in business. But here's the deal. I need you to visit the tumbler1 spot BECAUSE I've agreed to review books for www.booksneeze.com in exchange for them sending me free books. They desire people to read the reviews on their blogs, so please help me and visit the other site also.
In a day or so I'll explain about the delay in Beijing. For now, life has caved in and I just completed my WWIT week (What Was I Thinking) in which I volunteered about 20 hours to the City of Lubbock plus conducting a funeral for a family from my former church. Tomorrow night our church is voting on a building project and, if it passes, I'll have more work to do moving forward with construction.
Now it's time to sign off and promise to write again.
www.tumbler1.blogspot.com
which now has about 7 postings. Tonight my son challenged me to try again, and after about the fourth try, I got lucky and remembered the password. So I'm back in business. But here's the deal. I need you to visit the tumbler1 spot BECAUSE I've agreed to review books for www.booksneeze.com in exchange for them sending me free books. They desire people to read the reviews on their blogs, so please help me and visit the other site also.
In a day or so I'll explain about the delay in Beijing. For now, life has caved in and I just completed my WWIT week (What Was I Thinking) in which I volunteered about 20 hours to the City of Lubbock plus conducting a funeral for a family from my former church. Tomorrow night our church is voting on a building project and, if it passes, I'll have more work to do moving forward with construction.
Now it's time to sign off and promise to write again.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
It snowed but wrong day
If you've never experienced international travel, just imagine getting a root canal AND a colonoscopy at the same time SANS SEDATIVE! As you can imagine by my description, things have gotten a little strange here.
As I write, it is 12:37 Monday morning and we're still with our kids. We're SUPPOSED to be on a flight somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, winging our way to LAX. But it snowed in Beijing.
We left for the local airport about 1:15 P.M. for a 3:45 P.M. departure to Beijing, connecting with the international flight at 9:00 P.M. We stuffed ourselves into one of the undersized taxis they have here and began our 45 minute trip to the airport. We'd gone through the gut-wrenching good bye's with 3 year-old Grace who didn't want us to leave. She kept saying, "I want you to stay a long, long, long, long, long...time." I'd already had a tough morning as we sang some songs together as a family and shared some Father time. She loves to dance to the music and her sweet, innocent (most times) little face just pulled at the strings of my heart. And Trinity was so lovable and cuddly this morning (I'd rather had my teeth scraped than say good bye).
Brigitte accompanied us to the airport. The traffic was light and when we arrived at the airport, the crowd as the counter was almost non-existent. Judy commented, "This has been the smoothest trip we've made." (Picture waving a red flag in front of a bull.) As we were checking in, the agent commented, "It's snowing in Beijing. You might have a small problem getting out tonight." Brigitte and I looked at the flight schedule board and our flight was listed with an on-time departure. Brig asked if the flight to Beijing would be O.K. and the young agent gave a grunt and handed us our boarding passes. We checked our luggage, said good bye to Brig, and cleared security. We found a place to camp out until our flight time. (I noticed our flight was posted but no gate had been assigned. Not unusual for a gate posting to not occur until one hour before departure.) At the appropriate time I went to check on our gate number--still no number. As I stared at the screen I noticed earlier flights entering the screen--flights to Beijing with the word "delayed" attached. The 9:50 A.M. and the high noon flights were both delayed. (As I watched, I imagined a B movie with the title "The 9:50 to Beijing." It would be a Western--I mean, an Eastern--with Jackie Chan as the good guy.) Announcements began to be made informing us the flights were being "delayed" due to poor weather in Beijing and "would you please be patient and remain in your seats." Finally I realized "delayed" is Chinese code for "delayed until tomorrow." Others began to realize it as well. (There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth until Judy slapped me.)
PROBLEM! What do you do when you're in a foreign land and can't speak the language and your flight gets delayed/cancelled? We'd miss our connecting flight back to LAX as well as miss our pre-paid Priceline secured hotel AND miss our stateside flight on good old Southwest Airlines.
A kindly American who lives in Beijing helped me realize what we needed to do and loaned me his cell phone to call the kids. We then began the process of cancelling our boarding passes, reclaiming our luggage, rebooking flights, and getting a taxi back to the kid's house. Here's where the not-so-fun part comes in. (Imagine getting the root canal AND the colonoscopy AT THE SAME TIME without sedative; the dentist/doctor get angry at each other and forget to stop. The drill and the scope meet in the middle. I just checked my belly and I have another navel and I know how it got there.) To explain how the Chinese airline "works" is a challenge. The best picture I can draw is for you to imagine Adrian Monk (from the t.v. show "Monk") making the rules and a group of circus clowns implementing the rules--only they're not funny.
Here's where we are tonight. My sweet Brigitte spent 90 minutes on the phone to the airline in Beijing trying to get us a flight out of Beijing to LAX. We were able to reschedule our local flight to Beijing at the local airport, but the switchboard and lines were jammed in Beijing (meaning the little hamster had taken some time off and the cans and wires from here to there were down). We DO have tickets for tomorrow's "high noon" flight but our tickets for the Beijing/LAX leg are for Wednesday. (WEDNESDAY? DON'T THEY KNOW WE'RE EMPLOYED AND NEED TO KEEP OUR JOBS?!?!)Here's the plan. We'll take the "high noon" to Beijing, then pitch a tent (or pitch a fit) at the ticket counter to see if we can fly stand-by. If that fails, we'll find a cheap (yeah, right) hotel near the airport and hit the repeat button for Tuesday. If that doesn't work, another hotel and we'll catch the Wednesday flight. Which means I don't know when we'll be back in Lubbock (home of the Alamo Bowl winning Red Raiders). After we arrive in Los Angeles, we'll have to find a flight to Lubbock, which might be difficult considering all the foot ball coaches who will be making their way to Lubbock for a job interview.
There's an upside to all this--more time with the grand kids. There's also the downside--another gut-wrenching farewell. There's another upside--we're making another memory. There's also the downside--this is one memory I'd rather forget. There's another upside--more time with Judy before we both go back to work. There's also a downside--wait, there's no downside to time with Judy.
Don't know when I'll be able to blog again, but you can bet I'll have a lot to blog about. Happy New Year--hope yours' is off to a better start than mine. (But mine is a WHOLE lot better than either Mike Leach or Tiger Woods.)
As I write, it is 12:37 Monday morning and we're still with our kids. We're SUPPOSED to be on a flight somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, winging our way to LAX. But it snowed in Beijing.
We left for the local airport about 1:15 P.M. for a 3:45 P.M. departure to Beijing, connecting with the international flight at 9:00 P.M. We stuffed ourselves into one of the undersized taxis they have here and began our 45 minute trip to the airport. We'd gone through the gut-wrenching good bye's with 3 year-old Grace who didn't want us to leave. She kept saying, "I want you to stay a long, long, long, long, long...time." I'd already had a tough morning as we sang some songs together as a family and shared some Father time. She loves to dance to the music and her sweet, innocent (most times) little face just pulled at the strings of my heart. And Trinity was so lovable and cuddly this morning (I'd rather had my teeth scraped than say good bye).
Brigitte accompanied us to the airport. The traffic was light and when we arrived at the airport, the crowd as the counter was almost non-existent. Judy commented, "This has been the smoothest trip we've made." (Picture waving a red flag in front of a bull.) As we were checking in, the agent commented, "It's snowing in Beijing. You might have a small problem getting out tonight." Brigitte and I looked at the flight schedule board and our flight was listed with an on-time departure. Brig asked if the flight to Beijing would be O.K. and the young agent gave a grunt and handed us our boarding passes. We checked our luggage, said good bye to Brig, and cleared security. We found a place to camp out until our flight time. (I noticed our flight was posted but no gate had been assigned. Not unusual for a gate posting to not occur until one hour before departure.) At the appropriate time I went to check on our gate number--still no number. As I stared at the screen I noticed earlier flights entering the screen--flights to Beijing with the word "delayed" attached. The 9:50 A.M. and the high noon flights were both delayed. (As I watched, I imagined a B movie with the title "The 9:50 to Beijing." It would be a Western--I mean, an Eastern--with Jackie Chan as the good guy.) Announcements began to be made informing us the flights were being "delayed" due to poor weather in Beijing and "would you please be patient and remain in your seats." Finally I realized "delayed" is Chinese code for "delayed until tomorrow." Others began to realize it as well. (There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth until Judy slapped me.)
PROBLEM! What do you do when you're in a foreign land and can't speak the language and your flight gets delayed/cancelled? We'd miss our connecting flight back to LAX as well as miss our pre-paid Priceline secured hotel AND miss our stateside flight on good old Southwest Airlines.
A kindly American who lives in Beijing helped me realize what we needed to do and loaned me his cell phone to call the kids. We then began the process of cancelling our boarding passes, reclaiming our luggage, rebooking flights, and getting a taxi back to the kid's house. Here's where the not-so-fun part comes in. (Imagine getting the root canal AND the colonoscopy AT THE SAME TIME without sedative; the dentist/doctor get angry at each other and forget to stop. The drill and the scope meet in the middle. I just checked my belly and I have another navel and I know how it got there.) To explain how the Chinese airline "works" is a challenge. The best picture I can draw is for you to imagine Adrian Monk (from the t.v. show "Monk") making the rules and a group of circus clowns implementing the rules--only they're not funny.
Here's where we are tonight. My sweet Brigitte spent 90 minutes on the phone to the airline in Beijing trying to get us a flight out of Beijing to LAX. We were able to reschedule our local flight to Beijing at the local airport, but the switchboard and lines were jammed in Beijing (meaning the little hamster had taken some time off and the cans and wires from here to there were down). We DO have tickets for tomorrow's "high noon" flight but our tickets for the Beijing/LAX leg are for Wednesday. (WEDNESDAY? DON'T THEY KNOW WE'RE EMPLOYED AND NEED TO KEEP OUR JOBS?!?!)Here's the plan. We'll take the "high noon" to Beijing, then pitch a tent (or pitch a fit) at the ticket counter to see if we can fly stand-by. If that fails, we'll find a cheap (yeah, right) hotel near the airport and hit the repeat button for Tuesday. If that doesn't work, another hotel and we'll catch the Wednesday flight. Which means I don't know when we'll be back in Lubbock (home of the Alamo Bowl winning Red Raiders). After we arrive in Los Angeles, we'll have to find a flight to Lubbock, which might be difficult considering all the foot ball coaches who will be making their way to Lubbock for a job interview.
There's an upside to all this--more time with the grand kids. There's also the downside--another gut-wrenching farewell. There's another upside--we're making another memory. There's also the downside--this is one memory I'd rather forget. There's another upside--more time with Judy before we both go back to work. There's also a downside--wait, there's no downside to time with Judy.
Don't know when I'll be able to blog again, but you can bet I'll have a lot to blog about. Happy New Year--hope yours' is off to a better start than mine. (But mine is a WHOLE lot better than either Mike Leach or Tiger Woods.)
Friday, January 1, 2010
Getting sad
We're going home tomorrow.
Let's analyze that statement. "We're" implies more than one, maybe a group. It means I'm not alone. That's a positive. "Going" means forward motion--again, a positive. "Home." What warmer word can you image than "be it ever so humble, there's no place like" it. "Tomorrow" indicates hope (cue Annie, "The sun will come up, tomorrow...bet your bottom dollar things will be better tomorrow"). So at face value, "we're going home tomorrow" sounds wonderful. Then why am I getting sad?
The "we're" doesn't include all my family here in China. Judy and I make up the "we." When "we" leave, we'll be leaving 4 of our precious clan behind. We arrived 2 weeks ago today and have savored our time. We've connected with our littlest one here. Trinity is so lovable and snuggle able. (When I'm holding her and begin to whisper in her ear she places her head against mine and just listens. Gotta love that as well as her head bumps, which she freely gives.) Grace is a hoot. She's so creative and fun. Her mind (and mouth)is always going and she just makes us laugh. Even though she's my grandchild, she is exceptionally smart and so much fun. Brigitte and Kevin are incredible as parents and in what they do in-country. (Just doing life in this place is a full-time job; so inconvenient, but they do it with class.)
"Going" in this case means separation. We're planning for Judy to return this summer, but I honestly don't know when I'll be with this part-of-my-heart again. (They're doing Christmas with Kevin's parents next year in Europe. Can't dwell on this thought very long or it will spoil our remaining day-and-a-half here.)
"Home" is a very positive thought. I love being with my wife of 39 years. We've not had much time together for a long time since she was involved in her radiation treatments in Houston. This will be great--reconnecting with my beloved spouse.
"Tomorrow" in this case is very near. As I write we've got about 26 hours til our tomorrow comes due.
Between now and then, we're going to squeeze all the enjoyment we can out of each moment. I've got to fill my memory bank during these next 26 hours and overdose on head bumps and Grace moments. (Why am I spending time blogging--I've got grand kids to spoil?!?!)
Let's analyze that statement. "We're" implies more than one, maybe a group. It means I'm not alone. That's a positive. "Going" means forward motion--again, a positive. "Home." What warmer word can you image than "be it ever so humble, there's no place like" it. "Tomorrow" indicates hope (cue Annie, "The sun will come up, tomorrow...bet your bottom dollar things will be better tomorrow"). So at face value, "we're going home tomorrow" sounds wonderful. Then why am I getting sad?
The "we're" doesn't include all my family here in China. Judy and I make up the "we." When "we" leave, we'll be leaving 4 of our precious clan behind. We arrived 2 weeks ago today and have savored our time. We've connected with our littlest one here. Trinity is so lovable and snuggle able. (When I'm holding her and begin to whisper in her ear she places her head against mine and just listens. Gotta love that as well as her head bumps, which she freely gives.) Grace is a hoot. She's so creative and fun. Her mind (and mouth)is always going and she just makes us laugh. Even though she's my grandchild, she is exceptionally smart and so much fun. Brigitte and Kevin are incredible as parents and in what they do in-country. (Just doing life in this place is a full-time job; so inconvenient, but they do it with class.)
"Going" in this case means separation. We're planning for Judy to return this summer, but I honestly don't know when I'll be with this part-of-my-heart again. (They're doing Christmas with Kevin's parents next year in Europe. Can't dwell on this thought very long or it will spoil our remaining day-and-a-half here.)
"Home" is a very positive thought. I love being with my wife of 39 years. We've not had much time together for a long time since she was involved in her radiation treatments in Houston. This will be great--reconnecting with my beloved spouse.
"Tomorrow" in this case is very near. As I write we've got about 26 hours til our tomorrow comes due.
Between now and then, we're going to squeeze all the enjoyment we can out of each moment. I've got to fill my memory bank during these next 26 hours and overdose on head bumps and Grace moments. (Why am I spending time blogging--I've got grand kids to spoil?!?!)
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sad day
Yesterday (New Year's Adam) we said good bye to 8 new friends who had come to this part of the world to teach English at a local school. They were amazing and accomplished so much in about 10 days. Prior to their departure we visited a park near where our kids live. It is an amazing park filled with beautiful trees and plants. The locals have added statues with character. The park is a work-in-progress in that they are adding to it continually, including transplanting huge trees. It truly is remarkable.
Here's the truly sad part. They've also constructed an extremely large Buddhist temple. We looked through the temple and saw all the monks and workers, along with the many people purchasing incense sticks and offering prayers to...uhhhhh, to...ummmm, prayers to "whoever might be there." They believe all roads lead to their concept of heaven. The truth is none of their roads lead to heaven. Judy and I commented to our friends to take a good look at the faces of the people offering incense and prayers to "the great unknown" because they'll not see those same faces in heaven UNLESS. That made us extremely sad. As we walked through the compound I kept repeating, "Jesus is Lord, Jesus is Lord" and so wanting that to become a reality for the folks there.
In town today we encountered several Buddhist monks wanting to give us a blessing and to receive one in return (I think they expected that their "received" blessings would be of a monetary type). I have to admit I didn't have much patience with them. Yes, they are deluded, part of the spiritual darkness so prevalent here and darkness operates like darkness. But knowing how they are deluding so many made me want to do anything but give them a blessing. However I've decided to pray for them by the names I "affectionately" gave them: Moe, Larry and Curly. I really think God will know who they are as I lift their names from time-to-time.
As I write there's only 98 minutes left in this year and decade. "Good bye ought oh and hello decade of the teens." Happy New Year, readers.
Here's the truly sad part. They've also constructed an extremely large Buddhist temple. We looked through the temple and saw all the monks and workers, along with the many people purchasing incense sticks and offering prayers to...uhhhhh, to...ummmm, prayers to "whoever might be there." They believe all roads lead to their concept of heaven. The truth is none of their roads lead to heaven. Judy and I commented to our friends to take a good look at the faces of the people offering incense and prayers to "the great unknown" because they'll not see those same faces in heaven UNLESS. That made us extremely sad. As we walked through the compound I kept repeating, "Jesus is Lord, Jesus is Lord" and so wanting that to become a reality for the folks there.
In town today we encountered several Buddhist monks wanting to give us a blessing and to receive one in return (I think they expected that their "received" blessings would be of a monetary type). I have to admit I didn't have much patience with them. Yes, they are deluded, part of the spiritual darkness so prevalent here and darkness operates like darkness. But knowing how they are deluding so many made me want to do anything but give them a blessing. However I've decided to pray for them by the names I "affectionately" gave them: Moe, Larry and Curly. I really think God will know who they are as I lift their names from time-to-time.
As I write there's only 98 minutes left in this year and decade. "Good bye ought oh and hello decade of the teens." Happy New Year, readers.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Plumbing issues
The Chinese deserve credit for so many things they do well. They are masters of cooking I can't begin to describe how tasty they can make corn, green beans, egg plant, broccoli and cabbage--I could be a vegetarian here. They are also wizards at making water buffalo taste good--tonight we had a pepper beef dish that is to die for. We also had a fish dish that tops any fish I've had in USAmerica. (They fillet the fish then make fish rolls that include cilantro, garlic and an herb to be named later, then place the rolls in a row and return the head and tail before cooking and presenting the dish. Wish I'd had a camera to capture Judy's expression when the fish was served, staring at her.)
They are amazing gardeners. Find a small plot of land and they'll grow something. Or, construct a building with a flat roof and they'll add dirt and turn it into a roof garden.
Horticulture? They can't be beat. You'll find parks here that make anything we've got in USAmerica look bland. (They transplant anything with success, even mature trees. Fascinating!)
But plumbing? NO WAY!!! For some reason they've not got this down very well. (Who am I kidding, they suck at plumbing.) What's supposed to hold water leaks and what's supposed to let water drain doesn't. During our recent village visit we stayed in a very nice hotel (except for the cardboard covered concrete slab bed). It even had a Western potty. Sweet. Our bathroom came with a shower in-a-tub and a counter around the sink--a perk for China. We had plenty of hot water for showers--a luxury. So where's the problem? Glad you asked.
Judy showered first while I scraped my face with cold steel. Then it was my turn. There was a dispenser for hair & body wash--not my idea of an ideal situation. I mean, how does the soap know if you're applying it to hair or body? Surely there's some difference between the texture of hair and skin and the hygiene needs of each. Oh well, it made lather. Things were going well--I even checked to make sure the shear shower curtain was directing the water into the tub and not onto the bathroom floor, and the wisp of a curtain was doing it's job. Who wants a wet bathroom floor.(So far, so good.) I finished after a reasonable time (reasonable means I used enough hair & body wash along with the water to get my hair and body washed. Being a "full bodied" guy, it takes some time to get all the din off my skin (I don't know what that means either, but I wanted to rhyme something). Turn off the water, open the curtain and grab a towel. OH NO, THERE'S WATER ON THE FLOOR! How did it get there since I was being so careful with the curtain? IT WAS COMING OUT OF THE FLOOR DRAIN! That's right, the water was draining out of the tub, down the drain, and up onto the floor. HOW CRAZY IS THAT? Couldn't stop the flood. I threw down towels in a futile attempt to dam up the water. The only thing I succeeded in doing was getting all our towels sopping wet. It suddenly dawned on me--I can't swim! The water continued to rise--the rats were bailing out of the ship, the furniture was floating, the musicians began playing "Nearer My God to Thee" (oh wait, that was on the Titanic). The tide stopped rising just before it got to the three foot line on our door, which was fortunate because the door stoop was at three feet and 1/2 inch (and it explained why we had such a big step to get into the bathroom).
We reported the problem, fully expecting the Asian Roto Rooter to arrive and correct the problem before our next bathing adventure. WRONG! The next morning the water began to rise. But I had a flash of insight--PUT THE PLUG IN THE TUB--KEEP THE WATER IN THE TUB AND NOT ON THE FLOOR. But remember, the things that are supposed to hold water don't. However, in this case, the bathtub plug slowed the water enough so it didn't totally flood the floor. I OUT SMARTED A STUPID DRAIN. I'm proud of that.
The next time you find yourself in a Chinese shower and the water begins to rise, plug the drain. (Just a helpful hint from this old fat white guy who sometimes travels the world.)
They are amazing gardeners. Find a small plot of land and they'll grow something. Or, construct a building with a flat roof and they'll add dirt and turn it into a roof garden.
Horticulture? They can't be beat. You'll find parks here that make anything we've got in USAmerica look bland. (They transplant anything with success, even mature trees. Fascinating!)
But plumbing? NO WAY!!! For some reason they've not got this down very well. (Who am I kidding, they suck at plumbing.) What's supposed to hold water leaks and what's supposed to let water drain doesn't. During our recent village visit we stayed in a very nice hotel (except for the cardboard covered concrete slab bed). It even had a Western potty. Sweet. Our bathroom came with a shower in-a-tub and a counter around the sink--a perk for China. We had plenty of hot water for showers--a luxury. So where's the problem? Glad you asked.
Judy showered first while I scraped my face with cold steel. Then it was my turn. There was a dispenser for hair & body wash--not my idea of an ideal situation. I mean, how does the soap know if you're applying it to hair or body? Surely there's some difference between the texture of hair and skin and the hygiene needs of each. Oh well, it made lather. Things were going well--I even checked to make sure the shear shower curtain was directing the water into the tub and not onto the bathroom floor, and the wisp of a curtain was doing it's job. Who wants a wet bathroom floor.(So far, so good.) I finished after a reasonable time (reasonable means I used enough hair & body wash along with the water to get my hair and body washed. Being a "full bodied" guy, it takes some time to get all the din off my skin (I don't know what that means either, but I wanted to rhyme something). Turn off the water, open the curtain and grab a towel. OH NO, THERE'S WATER ON THE FLOOR! How did it get there since I was being so careful with the curtain? IT WAS COMING OUT OF THE FLOOR DRAIN! That's right, the water was draining out of the tub, down the drain, and up onto the floor. HOW CRAZY IS THAT? Couldn't stop the flood. I threw down towels in a futile attempt to dam up the water. The only thing I succeeded in doing was getting all our towels sopping wet. It suddenly dawned on me--I can't swim! The water continued to rise--the rats were bailing out of the ship, the furniture was floating, the musicians began playing "Nearer My God to Thee" (oh wait, that was on the Titanic). The tide stopped rising just before it got to the three foot line on our door, which was fortunate because the door stoop was at three feet and 1/2 inch (and it explained why we had such a big step to get into the bathroom).
We reported the problem, fully expecting the Asian Roto Rooter to arrive and correct the problem before our next bathing adventure. WRONG! The next morning the water began to rise. But I had a flash of insight--PUT THE PLUG IN THE TUB--KEEP THE WATER IN THE TUB AND NOT ON THE FLOOR. But remember, the things that are supposed to hold water don't. However, in this case, the bathtub plug slowed the water enough so it didn't totally flood the floor. I OUT SMARTED A STUPID DRAIN. I'm proud of that.
The next time you find yourself in a Chinese shower and the water begins to rise, plug the drain. (Just a helpful hint from this old fat white guy who sometimes travels the world.)
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