North to Alaska: Art Auction Confusion

I woke at 6:45, anxious to start our day. A dry deck faced us; the ship rocked beneath our feet.

After breakfast, I intended to get the rigmarole of going ashore the next day out of the way. I sorted through the forms and luggage tags. We had a couple options: independent or expedited and chose the latter as we fit all the criteria, the times fit better, and I’d rather pull our own luggage off the ship than leave it outside the door before midnight and have to wait to collect it upon arrival in Vancouver. Mary stopped by the front desk to collect printouts of our accounts. I spent more than I’d anticipated. How easy it is to spend money when all you have is a credit card. I should have disregarded an internet connection as a necessity, considering we had so much downtime.

Mary signed us up to attend an art auction. Not up my alley but the promise of a glass of champagne was a good incentive. Upon registration, a nice woman handed everyone a number and three stickers, which we were to affix to paintings we favoured.

When the fellow responsible to display the next painting for auction, he snapped off the stickers and mashed them. I saw no point in the stickers unless the ones with the most were brought out first or was the exercise to engage would-be buyers?

The champagne must have been a special purchase. Only one glass per customer. My mouth puckered with the first sip, but I managed to work at it until the glass was empty. Swirling the glass gave me something to do while I slid lower in my chair, bored. The auction did not heat up; a few painting sold, but the bidding was low and unexciting.

Tummies rumbling, we scouted out to lunch. Upon our return, lo and behold, the auction still rambled on. Mary did not win anything though she purchased a wad of draw tickets. At the end, as loyal attendees, another woman handed out white 10 by 13-inch envelopes. Mary opened hers right away. She disliked the print of a moose and daring as ever, she asked for an exchange. She made a face at the print of single cottage in a field of wildflowers in her hand and hinted at trading with me, but I liked mine. I decided to love my modern print or would someday and planned to buy a fabulous frame it might deserve. Teasing aside, I did—I DO—like it.

Duet Night (print) by Charles Lee

The rest of the day we wandered the ship, saying goodbye to new friends. For the third and last time, we enjoyed dinner at the Rotterdam with plans to enjoy Elliot Finkel, a piano entertainer in the theatre. The members of the audience loved the fabulous and popular Disney show tunes he played, but the show lasted only 45 minutes. Two guitarists, a drummer, and a female keyboard player accompanied him.

The show over, we had plenty of time to catch the sunset. Announcements earlier mentioned 9:29 and then 9:15 pm as sundown. Thank goodness, we were early, yet we still missed it. The sun slid into the ocean in the split second I blinked. What a disappointment. A fellow passenger caught it and said, “The sun slipped behind the mountains and into the ocean like it had been in a hurry to go to bed.”

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~ * ~

Next on June 29^th – North to Alaska: Last Day and New Horizons

© 2018 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

Beijing Part 10: The Hutong and a Rickshaw Tour

Image Courtesy of Sally Cronin

After the disappointment of Olympic Park, the day became more interesting. We visited The Hutong, once the old walled city. The buildings were ancient, many were decrepit. We drove through the shopping district but did not stop. As the bus meandered through the old town’s narrow streets, we learned a new subway station is planned for the area; buildings are being torn down and replaced. Renewal is everywhere.

Our first stop: a rickshaw ride.

                          That’s a lot of rickshaws. This is still a popular draw in the Hutong.

I had been worried about runners pulling us in traffic, as in cars. I suppose I’ve seen too many movies. Ricksaws had progressed to pedal power.

                Sue and I not sure what to make of this. We’re not exactly featherweights.

The roads are bricked and narrow. Other customers other than our Group 8 had come for a ride.

                                     Someone else enjoying a ride. It’s a wonderful day for it.

The alleys were full of contrasts: falling buildings and new cars  You wouldn’t believe the electrical boxes and the plugs inserted in them helter-skelter.

An artist’s work on display

We all know alleys are a playground for wandering, stray cats.  I saw none, nor any dog either.

Restaurant tables and chairs outside. Simple. Let’s bring the inside out.

Sue and I whispered behind the driver’s back how guilty we felt having this not-so-young man peddling for all he was worth. We had been instructed to tip him, but no more than $2.00 USD.

The driver wasn’t young but he must have been in good shape for all that heavy peddling.

 Our driver,  a warm and generous guy, was happy to have a picture with Sue and me.

We weren’t sure if he understood anything we said to him but he gave off happy vibes. That’s the man-made lake in the background. How many people and how long did that take?

The things people throw out. I didn’t see anything wrong with the girl’s two wheeler, but I also didn’t jump out of the rickshaw to inspect it.

Looks like home. All ready for garbage pickup.

I cannot recall if this is a restaurant or a temple.

Not a great photo because of the narrow street and my amateur photography.

A video you might enjoy on more hutong background  (29.05 min).

 

Next on March 24, Beijing Part 11: A Special Peking Duck Dinner

© 2017 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

FYI: This is a re-blog of the best parts of my trip in 2014.

Beijing Part 5

Image Courtesy of Sally Cronin

Temple of Heaven:

The entrance to the Temple is a wide avenue meant for masses of foot traffic. It is clean and well-traveled, not only by foreigners like us but by the Chinese people as well. I did not see wrappers or bottles lying around anywhere.

Click below for a three-minute video, which explains better than I can. Sorry for the advertisement. The first few seconds will show you the exercise in the park again but keep watching. Those pink feathers the man is tossing with his feet are the Badminton birdie I had referred to earlier.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Mo6_cskvhQ

The English 8 Group (us) had removed our light jackets. The sun rose higher and the temperature grew warmer, yet around us, young Chinese ladies wore (wool?) leggings under skirts, long sleeved jackets, heavy pants (no jeans) and high heels. I love heels and wear them on occasion, but not in this kind of environment. There were lots of stairs to climb and broken concrete and uneven bricked areas all around. How they walked in those shoes without breaking their necks, and for so far and long, I cannot imagine.

• The park area is 660 acres
• Commoners were not allowed inside its gates until 1918
• It is a UNESCO World Heritage site
• All the buildings were refreshed prior to the 2008 Olympics
• Although the doors remained open, visitors are barred from entering. We fought for a spot to look inside from the blocked doorway but could not make out much.

Forbidden City:

We walked until our feet screamed for mercy. Again washroom locations were uppermost in our minds and where bottled water could be purchased. The following video is an hour and a half long. I cannot remember all the interesting history we learned, but take time to take a peak: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XRcwAAsNz8

Lunch:

The bus driver dropped us at the restaurant. The French group followed soon afterward as well as lots of locals. All platters of food were automatically delivered and placed on the large lazy Susan in the center of the table. Choices of one (small) free glass of soft drink, water, or beer were again offered. All the food served was family style. Our plates for eating were smaller than some bread and butter plates at home.

• French fries (What? Shocked us too)
• Deep fried, breaded white fish (mild taste)
• Cooked cauliflower
• Noodles (tasty)
• Thinly sliced beef and cucumber platter
• Beef meatballs with onions and green peppers
• One large egg pancake (the size of a dinner plate)
• White rice
• Soup with ribbons of Nori in it (I didn’t try it)
• Green tea
• Peeled oranges, sections pulled apart and arranged on a plate for dessert

Note: Veggies were not plentiful like they are in the Chinese food we order in the West. They appeared to be more for decoration, except for plentiful onions in meat dishes, along with a few slices of green pepper. I ate till my tummy felt happy. I had no complaints about the food.

Tian’anmen Square

We set out on foot as the bus couldn’t bring us closer to the Square. Shortly before entering the grounds, we passed a strip mall across from the Square featuring souvenir shops and the like. Sue asked if we might shop, but Robert shook his head. Not a chance. We had a tight schedule. (Check out the writing on the building, a different spelling again.)

The Square is so huge, the danger of being trampled during a ceremony or demonstration crossed my mind. The Square accommodates one million people. That’s the size of 90 American football fields. Soldiers still patrol the area,  although they look way too young and of slight build.

• The monument of the heroes of the revolution is here

• The Great Hall of the People (in the background)

• The Museum of Chinese History and Revolution. We were there at the wrong time and it was closed. I don’t believe we had been scheduled to visit anyway.

• The Mao Zedong Memorial Hall where Mao lies embalmed in a glass case since his death in 1976. We did not go inside the Hall either. This building is at another end of the Square.

http://www.ebeijing.gov.cn/BeijingInformation/BeijingsHistory/t1141051.htm

Dinner:

Tsingtao beer was served, the best beer in China we were told. Ernesto ordered a bottle. I had the one small free glass a change from the water I drank all day. Sue preferred pop or water and the rest chose water.

• Sliced sausage, fungus (think of weird mushrooms) and cucumbers
• Cooked green salad (leaves of some kind)
• Rice
• Chicken with carrots and cucumbers
• Duck meat with celery
• Chicken with celery
• Battered deep fried fish
• Sesame bread plus onions and peppers (can’t remember what this looked like)
• Spring rolls (exactly eight)
• Soup (forgot to write what kind)
• Watermelon slices for dessert

Offered separately, for which we needed to pay, were special coffees and ice cream. The waitress quoted 20 Yuan for either (about $4.00 Cdn / approx. $3.30 USD). Sue pointed out the prices posted over the ice cream freezer were 3.50 and 5.00 Yuan. Nope. The price was 20 Yuan. Non-negotiable. We must have stuck out like tourists. With money.

Our restaurant had been backed onto a park-like setting with a large pond of stagnant water. It wasn’t clean and had ugly, black and swampy plants growing in it.

We had time to kill before the bus came at 6:30 to drive to the Opera. Some of our group decided on a walk in the park. Sue and I chose to sit and take a load off. We’d done enough walking all day. My feet shrieked and uttered profanities. No wonder—they must have walked 50 miles on our first day out.

Beijing Opera 7:30 p.m.

Before the performance, a demonstration was given on stage of a male performer applying face makeup and donning a costume with a dresser assisting.

This is not an art form I appreciated, although the costumes were colorful and dazzling. One of the men in our group complained he couldn’t even catch a nap.

We arrived at the hotel somewhere between nine and ten o’clock. A jam-packed day three had ended. My brain, over-saturated with information, shut down. Goodnight Beijing. Hello, pillow and bed.

~ *~

Next on February 17^th – The Great Wall

© 2017 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

FYI: This is a re-blog of the best parts of my trip in 2014.

#BlogBattle Week 45 – Prompt: Dive

To join  and / or meet the wizard behind this challenge click below:

http://rachaelritchey.com/blogbattle/

Rules:  

1. 1000 wordsmax
2. fictionaltale (or true if you really want)
3. PG(no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
4. Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered aroundthe theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
5. Go for the entertainmentvalue!
6. State the Genre of your storyat the top of your post.
7. Post your story on Tuesday, by 11:59 PM PST
8. Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post(it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
9. Have fun!

Each winner will receive the awesome #BlogBattle Winner Badge to display with their winning story on their webpage.

***********************************************************

Goldilocks?

An unusual number of parked cars clogged the street in front of her apartment. Sandy grumbled and turned left twice to the underground garage, at the back of the building. She reached for the remote but it wasn’t on the visor. “Where the…?” An impatient car horn sounded behind her and inched forward closer. She tapped her horn back at him. Wait. The driver laid on the horn again like there was a fire.

Though early spring and breezy, Sandy’s armpits soaked through her light jacket. Blinking in concentration, she pawed the passenger seat, in the crevices, and on the floor. No luck. Her head snapped at the thump on her driver’s window unable to identify the face bent towards her.

“Open the window.” A man’s voice growled the words, and pixel by pixel, she discerned a human face: short clipped beard, mustache, angry brown eyes, nose skimming the glass. “Well?”

She snapped into action and cranked the handle a couple times. “Sorry. I’ve misplaced my remote. Let me in with yours and I’ll be out of your hair.” She wound up the window, forced a smile and set her hands on the steering wheel. Eyes bulging, he threw his hands into the air. Muttering something colorful, he slapped the window again, and stomped off. Heart racing like a thundering locomotive, her focus on the garage door, Sandy gripped the steering wheel. The double-door creaked and yawned open. Without skipping a beat, she lurched forward and around the corner to her designated spot.

Parked, then out in a flash, she noted the remote on the floor on the driver’s side. She dashed towards the trunk, grabbed her parcels and raced to the elevator. She did not intend to share the pleasure of his company in such a cramped space. Before the door slid shut, a hand plunged to the button on the wall outside without success. Muscles tense and rigid, Sandy shrieked and watched the door slip to its final destination. “Yes!”

The elevator stopped on the third floor. Sandy grasped the handles on her shopping bags and backed into a corner. Old Ma Murphy, as the the tenants called her, tapped her way into the elevator, the splitting image of the famous Einstein. “Hello, dear. Don’t you look a fright. Everything okay?”

Sandy raised a clutch of bag handles to her chest and exhaled. “Sure. I’m good. Had a tense moment with a nasty driver.”

“One reason why I never took up driving, especially these days.” The door creaked shut an inch from Ma Murphy’s behind. She poked her cane at the scruffy carpet. “Mrs. Swain is home from hospital. In need of pleasant company, she said. Going to make her tea.”

Sandy glanced at the red floor numbers. Creak. Creak. They stopped on five. Old Ma Murphy pointed the stick at her packages. “Ever wonder if you spend too much money on nonsense?”  She said, “Tsk-tsk,” circled round and shuffled out, shaking her head. “Young people these days.” The door scraped to a close and rocked upward taking its sweet time to the 11^th floor.

Her floor was empty.  Already smells of early suppers cooking reminded her she’d forgotten lunch. Dropping the bags in front of 1105, Sandy fished for keys in her purse. She came up empty. This isn’t happening. It’s not happening. Hairline damp, she stamped her foot and tried again. Teeth clenched, fingers fumbled and clawed. They closed around the key ring. A door slammed in the hall, but she didn’t look up. Instead, she stabbed the lock and pushed the door with more force than intended.

Inside, she leaned against the closed door, eyes and ears on alert. Something odd hung in the air. A sixth sense held her back, wary. There couldn’t be anyone else in the apartment. She’d made enough noise to wake up the dead, hadn’t she?

The kitchen on her right, she tiptoed inside. No one and nothing. Why is it, she wondered, when you think an intruder might be in your house you don’t run for help? Instead, you choke on your heart, crossing fingers no one’s there. She grabbed the meat cleaver off the counter and almost called out, ‘Is someone here?’ Stupid question. Would an intruder answer, ‘Yes, me, the intruder.’ Living- and dining-rooms clear. Nothing worth stealing anyway.

Short of collapsing from tension, Sandy crept down the hallway. Had she shut the bedroom door before going out? She turned the knob with exquisite care, and pushed in the door, not allowing it to slam. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. One door left: the bathroom. She listened. Not a sound. A strong aroma of orange blossom bubble bath enveloped her.

Beyond terror now, Sandy wrenched the door open. A body took a dive beneath the bubbles, red-painted toenails trailed in the air. She’d recognize them anywhere.

“Clarisse. What are you doing here?” Hand thrust in the water, she shoved the head down, panting and collapsed on the floor. “How’d you get in?”

The body popped up, short hair clinging to scalp and face, gasping for air. A pale hand swept across her eyes and over her forehead, teeth gleaming like piano keys. “What a way to greet your little sister. Don’t you check your texts? We’re celebrating your promotion.”

“How’d you get in?”

“You gave me a key, silly.” Clarisse arched ink-black brows and rolled her eyes. “I buzzed and buzzed until a cute guy with a beard and mustache let me in.”

Sandy dropped the cleaver and covered her face. “You almost gave me a stroke.”

“Drama queen. Out—and then it’s your turn. We have a double date tonight.”

“Who? Not…”

Clarisse wiggled wet eyebrows.

The End

© 2015 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

Popping in and Out (Post #450)

Hello, lovely blogging friends!

I’ve been held up doing the rounds since I started poking around a bit yesterday. Thank you for the lovely e-mails over the summer although I avoided my keyboard most of the time. I wasn’t home much and at times my laptop was broken under attack of one kind or another.

I confess the summer vanished much too quickly. Whoosh! You cannot believe the trying circumstances situations I found myself in time and again. Nothing like a little excitement to keep the old ticker going, or more likely, almost squash it like a plum.

The top three headliners of my summer were:

1. I got hacked (cost over $200 to clean laptop but no banking information lost and new cards now)
2. The same tooth abscessed twice. After antibiotics, a week later, again. Had it pulled. Lots of problems afterwards. Ouches.
3. Windows10 messed up laptop. Best Buy removed and now Windows 8.1 again. Desktop was okay, but Windows 10 messed that up yesterday.

I won’t bore you with the rest of it.

Some pluses were spending a couple days with one sister and a couple more in cottage country with all four sisters.

Now, I n.e.e.d. a vacation. My fourth sister to retire did so in April and when I heard her ‘thinking’ how to celebrate, I was in. Snap! Yeah like that and asked point blank where she wanted to go and I was coming.

We are going to Newfoundland and Labrador soon. Exchange rates for the Canadian dollar are heart-stopping and I’m glad Mary found something domestic. Sigh. A vacation is a vacation—no, she’s not paying… Maybe I should have negotiated that small detail.  *giggles* This sounds an amazing corner of Canada with mind-boggling views.

There you have it. I’ll be flitting in and out for the next week and a half and then take to the sky and away for a couple weeks.

I appreciate all of your welcomes and smiles. Feels like I’ve been away from home, but now I’m back.

When I come back, my worth ethic will change. Instead of clearing the decks (e-mail, blogging, commenting) first thing every day, I won’t get to any of that till much later in the day. I may not be a constant as before, but I plan to visit every chance I get.

What’s with WordPress making unwanted changes again? I don’t like Reader and I’ve noticed now one follows in Reader. Sheesh. Another thing: why makes the menu bar spastic and how does one stop it?

 

#BlogBattle Week 12

It’s that time again. This week’s prompt is ...horde…

If you want to play, click below for the rules

http://rachaelritchey.com/blogbattle/

You’re A Lifesaver

This isn’t the life Gracie had pictured. The newspaper scrunched between her hands crinkled and grumbled, but not for long. She heaved the wad across the room and glared at the ink stains on her hands. Greasy fish and chips in newsprint or wrapped potato peels never bothered her, but the stink of ink on her hands made her queasy.

No matter her disguise, someone always found her out. Time to move again. She hated starting over and hated to think how many times she’d been uprooted in the past three years. Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket. The number seemed familiar but not the name. She picked up. Damn, a breather.

“Wait, don’t hang up.” A male voice, whiny, wheezing.

“I don’t need whatever you’re selling.”

“Gracie, it’s me.”

“I’m going to hang up now. Bye.” Hate strangers calling me by name. She flicked her thumb to hang up.

“Wait, it’s me, Bob. Long time.” He forced a smile into his voice. “Saw your picture in the paper today.”

“Bob? You’re the last person I want to talk to. How’d you get this number?” She strode from the kitchen into the living-room, kicking the clump of print out of her way.

“Hear me out, will you.” He puffed and rasped into her ear.

“Answer me. Who gave you this number?” Gracie wound her pony tail round a hand, a nervous habit from her teens. “Bob? Tell me!”

“Don’t want to get anyone into trouble—“

“Who?”

“Your m-m-other?”

“Oh, you two are tight now, are you? No way. What lies did you tell her?” She yanked the handful of hair till tears sprang in her eyes and bit her lip, to not cry out. She released the hair. “What’s wrong with your breathing?” She prowled the living-room like a cat. “Not that I need to know, but you do sound peculiar.”

“I need a quadruple bypass but I don’t have the money.” A horn honked in the background and an eee-uuu eee-uuu of a firetruck screamed past, then silence.

Forehead pinched, she pulled the cell away and gaped at the screen, then brought it back. “Bob?”

“Yeah. I’m here. I needed a deep breath. So what do you say, can we make a deal?”

“How long’s it been? Five years? You tried fleecing me before the divorce and now you’re looking for a handout? This sound fair to you? She stomped into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle.

“Please, Gracie. You’ve won millions in the lottery and shared not a dime.”

“We were already divorced, remember? She slammed down a mug and ripped open a packaged teabag, her favorite, Lemon Thriller. The kettle whistled. She flicked the off switch. “How much?”

“I can be there in ten minutes.”

She frowned, nose wrinkled in distaste. “You know where I live? Oh yes— Mother.” Her hand sliced the air. “No. I’ll call my bank and have it couriered. Will two-hundred and fifty grand do?”

“You’re a lifesaver. I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

“No you won’t. Keep it. It’s yours.” Arrangements made, they hung up. Gracie rubbed her temples and removed the elastic from her hair. No point adding to the tension headache blooming at the back of her head. She glanced at the clock as a key turned in the lock. Right on time. Time enough to call her bank manager first. Punching in the number from her phone directory, she listened to her sister slam the powder room door and smiled. Girls will be girls.

“Bye, Don and thanks.”

Heloise rushed in. “Which Don? Your bank manager, Don? Have I news. You won’t guess who’s been hounding Mom—”

“Bob.”

“She called? That’s a surprise.”

“Nope. Bob did. I can’t believe she gave him my information. Phone, maybe, but my address?”

“She’s almost 90, Sis. Getting soft.”

“Which reminds me. How would you like to live in Spain for a while? Everywhere I go, a horde of vultures awaits. Three years I’ve played cat and mouse with photographers and needy humanity. Someone always wants something. And now Bob. Time to leave town and move house while I’m gone. You call the travel agency and pick something you like and I’ll call my realtor. The sooner we leave, the better.

“So what’s Bob’s story? Mom said he sounded older than her, gasping for air and all. She couldn’t wait to be rid of him. Afraid he’d die on her.”

“So, that’s why she caved. Huh.”

“Saw you on the front page again. You’re quite the philanthropist—the childrens’ wing this time. ”

“I can’t do anything without a big deal. Why can’t organizations keep quiet like I ask? Even beg.”

* * *

A couple weeks later, Gracie toweled off after a refreshing swim in the pool one evening. The villa was magnificent. Maybe I’ll never go home again. Heloise stumbled down the steps towards her holding a cell as far away as her arm stretched.

“What’s wrong? Is it Mom?”

Heloise nodded like a dashboard bobble head. “Mom fell and broke an arm and hip. She’s not good.”

“How fast can we get a flight out?”

* * *

The funeral took place ten days after the sisters arrived home. They attended with their mother, who had been ensconced in a state-of-the-art wheelchair. She’d insisted on making the service though pain showed in her eyes.

Bob died of a massive heart attack. A life-long spend-thrift and drinker, he’d partied hard with his new found wind-fall and so-called friends. Everyone marvelled he’d lived to 67.

The End

© 2015 Tess and How the Cookie Crumbles. All Rights Reserved.

Day 21: Macau (cont’d)

I tried multi-tasking take pictures, scribble notes, and look around in an effort not to miss anything we passed. While taking pictures, I had a fear of dropping my pen and losing it. Pens are not left in hotel rooms for guests as they are in North America and my gel pens were running low on ink.

We arrived at the hotel and were dropped off as close to the south door as the driver managed. The check-in area was jam-packed. We were instructed to stand off the side. Our new local guide, Cheryl, and the French guide attended to our registration and room cards. You wouldn’t believe how fast the process took. Our luggage, already in our rooms Tower 2, room 1362, all we had to do was freshen up and the rest of the day was free. Unlike the Sheraton hotel the previous night, this one did not feature the glass wall between the bedroom and bathroom.

From our window (Room 1362, Tower 2), this was our view. Ugly. Cranes everywhere. On a site on the way to our hotel, I counted at least 10 Macau China State Construction cranes. Must be more hotels coming.

• Sheraton Macau 3, 800+ rooms (the largest Sheraton in the world)
• Has two towers: called Earth and Sky
• Built on reclaimed land
• Like a huge city inside
• Huge reception area with half-dozen counters at Check-in each one roped off
• Palm tree setting in sitting area off the check-in area
• No passports necessary: this is visa-free territory
• Huge casino across from check-in behind a wall
• Huge Ralph Lauren Store, the first one off the lobby
• Huge shopping mall off the lobby
• Can convert money with local guide or at hotel (to Hong Kong money)
• Steering wheel is on the right
• Driving is on the left side of the road
• Bus drivers have no problem making U-turns

Sue and I set off exploring. The first escalator we came upon confused me. There were two: side-by-side. Odd, I thought. Both were headed downward. The ascending ones must be on the other side. Sue laughed when I mentioned this. “Have another look,” she said. I had to concentrate. Not only do cars drive on the opposite side of the road here, and drivers sit on the ‘wrong’ side, the elevators run opposite as well. The up elevator was on the left where at home it would be on the down elevator.

This is the first time we had to find our own dinner. We explored the Food Court on the third floor.  Since we’d seen KFC, MacDonald’s and Starbucks in places already, we’d hoped to eat something North American (think burger or pizza). No such luck.

We decided to explore the Venetian Macau Hotel across the street. Taking an elevator in a different direction we crossed the street (without going outside) via an overhead (tube) bridge.

The street below the overhead bridge on the way to the Venetian.

The place is massive. Brand name stores everywhere. Six hundred of them. Lots of people but few customers buying up diamonds, exotic perfumes, or outrageous shoes. We were lost but found a map. A sales clerk selling make-up, although she spoke good English, couldn’t help us. Upon sighting a gondola in a canal, it was tempting to whistle the gondolier over but we didn’t. Finally, the food court. All Chinese food. Wait. A Fat Burger. Better not after the raw pork incident. Is that a Pizza Pizza? Nope the logo wasn’t right. We settled for pizza.

The Sheraton is the largest hotel not only in Macau, but in the world, and the Venetian has the largest casino.

Breaking News: (sorry for the commercial)

Macau Slowdown

~ * ~

Next on May 22^nd: Macau, Day 21 (cont’d) on to Hong Kong

For more related posts, click on China tab at the top of the page

© 2015Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles. All Rights Reserved.

100-Word Challenge for Grownups

Click here to join:

The prompt this week is the picture below plus 100 words.

A Fine Sunday

“My granddaddy worked on the docks across there. You listening, Llewellyn?”

“Sure.”

“Where’s your mind at this fine Sunday?”

“It’s nothing.”

Zelma patted the dog. “Our one day off together and your mind’s someplace else?”

“I’ve sorting out to do.”

She backed away. “Like what?”

“Things.” He swiped a forearm across his greasy forehead. “The Rover car factory is opening soon and advertising for workers.”

“You don’t know anything about…”

“I already quit…”

“The Missus cut my hours, and soon I’ll stop altogether.”

“Don’t worry— Stop?”

“I have news. You’ll be a daddy before Christmas.”

“Impossible.”

“This ain’t the Bible.”

 

© 2015 All Rights Reserved Tess and How the Cookie Crumbles

100-Word Challenge for Grownups – Week #174

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Prompt this week:  …all seven were just arguing amongst themselves… + 100 words

Where There’s a Will

As Nurse Nancy dashed in, all seven were just arguing amongst themselves.

“We sell the house first.”

“I don’t agree!”

“Let’s auction everything—”

“You buzzed?” She scanned the silent bed.

Harry frowned; his siblings shook their heads. A thin hand rose, then flopped like a beached trout on the crisp sheets. Nurse Nancy rushed forward; the seven trailed behind.

“Mrs. Mitchell—Annie. What can I get you?”

“Water, please? And a bedpan?”

“Right away.”

Harry froze, paled.

“Your mother needs privacy.” Hands gesturing, she shooed them out.

“I thought she was dead—”

“You were wrong. Call my lawyer.” The voice intensified. “I’m changing my will.”

 

© 2015 All Rights Reserved Tess and How the Cookie Crumbles

Guilin: Day 19, Part 2 – Out and About

Next stop South Sea Pearl Museum

Upon arrival, we were whisked through a five-minute presentation about the colour of pearls. Glassy-eyed, the husbands trailed behind. A runway fashion show followed with five formally dressed beauties displaying pearl earrings, rings, bracelets, and necklaces. Afterwards, we were whisked through double-doors into the salesroom with a flourish. The room was divided into three sections: good, medium, and best. One of the ladies in our group bought river pearls for 1,500 Yuan (about $250.00 USD.

Quick Facts:

• Fresh water pearls are an irregular shape (not round)
• Sea water pearls always round, only white, black and gold
• Lots of iron in the water = black colour
• Lots of copper in the water = purple, pink
• Chinese females don’t wear gold pearls as they don’t look good against their skin colour
• North Americans wear pink, white and black

The store glittered with enough brilliance to blind a stone statue. Hordes of sales staff—all young females—materialized out of nowhere. A sales assistant seemed to be available for every person through the door. The French group had arrived ahead of us and were already engaged in energetic persuasion. I wasn’t interested in pearls and wandered about, but returned to the front of the room where the husbands waited. An bar stool, facing the sales floor, presented an empty seat. I climbed on, a latte and wine bar at my elbow. Free? Not a chance. A convenient price list (in English) hung in full view. I’m grateful I wasn’t thirsty and didn’t bother checking out the prices.

Health Care:

• A combination of Chinese and Western medicine
• Western Medicine is faster
• Chinese medicine has no side effects (so it’s thought)
• You never want to drink the ‘healthy’ soup (I heard it’s worse than what ails you)

Lunch:

• Corn soup (the most delicious from all others since arrival in China)
• Chili and soy sauces
• Rice with corn, pieces of carrot and egg
• Celery and chestnuts, stir fried
• Sweet and sour chicken with chunks of tomato wedges
• Hot beef with green peppers and onions in a skillet (awesome)
• Spring rolls
• Bamboo chicken ( deep fried, on stick, spicy and delish)
• Eggplant with tomato wedges and green peppers
• Soft cooked (egg?) noodles with slivered red peppers and green (?) leaf and stalk vegetable
• Watermelon slices
• Tea

© 2015 All Rights Reserved Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

Today the plates are the largest we’ve had for any meal; bigger than a saucer and larger than a bread-and-butter-plate. Lots of oil used as in most all dishes and restaurants in China, but most delicious lunch I’ve had since arriving in China. Again, I’m stuffed, having scooped only one spoonful of each of the offerings.

After lunch, and for the first time, a liquor  was offered at 14 Yuan a shot glass (approximately $2.30 USD), but there were no takers. As well, a bit later, ice-cream and cappuccino were offered. Carolyn thought it was free so she ordered one of each. It turns out it wasn’t free. She turned it down and no-one else was interested either.

Jokes

When your wife catches you with another woman, you are completely finished.

If your wife likes to shop a lot, you are finished completely.

~ * ~

On March 20^th:  No posting (on March Break)

Next up on March 27^th:  Guilin, Day 19, Part 3 – Elephant Trunk Park

For more related posts, click on China tab at the top of the page

© 2015 All Rights Reserved Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles