I wonder what secret agents do when the the jobs done and they go home,
No doubt they are aching from head to foot, and every step it takes from the car dropping them off to the front door is like a mile and a half.
And, inside the door, do they drop the bag/case/duffel on the floor and just lean against it, and look at what is their ‘other’ world’, that one that doesn’t include luxuripous hotel rooms, the finest dining, and fastest cars, and weaponry.
You feel the inside of your jacket, and, yes, the gun’s not there because it had to be handed back, and for a moment you feel just a little unsafe.
You think, what if an enemy agent had been waiting for me, how would I defend myself. But there isn’t and you don’t have to.
The place has that slight musty smell about it, like you have been there for a month or so, because you haven’t, and your first inclination is to open the blinds and let the light in.
And then you think, no. I just need a rest,
Perhaps a drink first, check the pile of mail that had accumulated inside the door, perhaps a postcard from an acquaintance made.
There isn’t. And then you remember you were going to restock the bar, but that call came and you didn’t have time.
You stretch, and, yes, there it is, a strained muscle from that fall off the roof, that tug of a tendon that you pulled chasing a villain down the road, and then beiong chased by a car, didn’t thin you could outrun an Audi did you?
No, nothing to do but rest.
A slow shuffle to the lounge, use the remote to switch on the TV, change the channel to the news, what’s going on in the world.
I was poking around on the gallery on my phone and found this
It was the rear of the club house for a golf course that was adjacent to the resort we were staying at before COVID shut down the country and all travel.
It was a bleak day with rain falling from drizzle to a heavy shower, and I had to wonder what it would be like on a fine summer’s day.
The club house also had space for conventions and weddings, and I could imaging having the wedding in the rotunda as the the sun departed leaving behind shades of yellow, orange and red.
Having a fountain in the wedding photo would be so hard to take either.
Perhaps we could renew our vows one day in just such a location.
It is located in Dengfeng Ave, Dengfeng, Zhengzhou, Henan, China, at the southern foot of Mount Song, 13 km northwest of Dengfeng City, Zhengzhou City, Henan Province.
A map of the Temple grounds, which would come in handy before you enter the grounds, so that you have some idea of what there is to see:
A bit of history:
The Shaolin Temple was originally built in 495 during the Northern Wei Dynasty (368-534). For over 1500 years, Shaolin Temple has developed through good and bad times. The temple was firstly destroyed in the Northern Zhou Dynasty (557-581), then rebuilt much later as the Zhihu Temple. In the Sui Dynasty (581-618) the temple was renamed Shaolin and became one of the largest Buddhism monasteries in North China.
Good fortune in the early Tang Dynasty (618-907) was followed by bad fortune in the later of Tang Dynasty, it improved during the Song Dynasty (960-1279) until 1312 in Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) where it returned to its former glory. The Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) also made contributions to the development of Shaolin Temple.
Due to the wars of the modern era much of the Temple was destroyed.
The Shaolin Temple, nestled in the forested mountains of Henan, its the birthplace of Kung Fu and Zen Buddhism. The Shaolin Temple embraces many exciting attractions, such as the Hall of Heavenly Kings (Tianwangdian), and the Mahavira Hall (Daxiongbaodian)
This is not a single building, that’s not how the Chinese work. It’s a whole host of buildings, the first of which is up some steps, through a gate, then along a tree-lined avenue with monument stones to some more steps, past a cauldron burning incense, and then to the temple. There are several monks inside.
The front entrance:
Inside the entrance building, there are some large statues that I’m guessing are there to scare away the wrong sort of people
Once past these characters, you are on a walkway between pagodas where there are trees, and sculptures
and through the next pagoda brings you to the first of the temples. There are three doors and three buddas. This is through the middle door
And no you can’t go inside, you just stand on the outside looking in.
In one part of the temple there were three monks, and, believe it or not, they were all on their mobile phones.
This is certainly not ancient times, so what did the monks do before mobile communications?
Up some more stairs to the next building,
And so on till we reach the one at the top. Outside each is a cauldron burning incense, and that aroma hangs on the air everywhere you go in the compound.
Then it’s a case of what goes up must come down, and strangely enough, it doesn’t take as long to go back down, and in doing so we got to see and hear a bit of singing by the monks.
There was a story to go with the various buildings and other aspects but I didn’t hear half of it, and couldn’t understand our guide for the rest.
All in all, it was an interesting place, but still not worth the money we paid.
Once again, it’s Sunday night, and he’s looking for a philosophical discussion. COVID 19 is off the topic list.
He’s suitably disappointed that the Trump Show is over, as far as we are aware, though he’s not surprised.
But he is worried that two cats have tested positive.
I try to tell him that it is in New York, about 18,000 miles away, where there are over 200,000 cases. We have just over 1,000 and they are all isolated so we cannot be harmed.
I guess it’s hard to convince a cat when his mind is made up.
We’ve also taken the grandchildren off the list of topics too,
They arrive a few hours ago, and studiously ignored him when they arrived. I tried to point out that he was in hiding when they arrived, but again, the stubbornness of opinion is amazing, or normal.
I should be used to this sort of contrariness.
So, what is on the discussion list?
Outlander, Season 5 Episode 10. Well, I say, we haven’t seen it yet, so don’t tell me what the plots is.
He looks at me as if I’m mad. I only get to see it when you do, he says. How should I know what the plot is? In fact, what is the plot?
Time travel, I say.
Pity we can’t do some of that, he says.
Why I asked, and really, I should know better.
Because I could go back to the day you came to the pet shop and hide. I have given you 18 years to improve, and you’re still the same as you were then.
Why did we name the planets after mythological gods?
I did a little digging and found that the Romans named the five closest planets to the sun after their most important gods, this one, named after the god of the sea, which to the Romans was Poseidon, but in translation, Neptune, and matbe because it was ‘blue’.
Of course, we all know about King Neptune.
We also know about Poseidon, which was the fictional ship that got hit by a tidal wave, and was turned into a blockbuster movie.
But in terms of science fiction, which is not what I write, but I seem to spend a lot of time watching, it strikes me that seeing the moon, we could assume that the moon could be a stopping off point on a trip to the pouter planets.
I’m always surprised at the ingenuity of ‘Sci Fi’ writers in how they can turn what is scientifically impossible to live on but not necessarily impossible to get there (after a long sleep), into a place where we can destroy with equal rapaciousness as our own planet.
If I was going to write something, perhaps it would be about turning the planet into a holiday resort, staffed by robots…
Uh oh, that’s reminiscent of another ‘Sci Fi’ series. I’ll let you guess what it is.
At the time, I took this at a flower show, and usually it is quite colourful, but this time, whilst there were a lot of flowers, it didn’t seem as vibrant as in years past.
But, on the other hand, my green thumb does not run to such displays.
For years, the front and back yards were roughly the equivalent of dustbowls, with rampant weeds for lawn, and a few pots.
Recently we had the house rendered, and at the same time had some paths and proper steps built leading up the the front door, and on eithger side running the length of the house, staggered height flower beds.
In these we put succulents, mainly for the fact they need very little maintenance other than thinning out twice or so a year.
Around the fence line we planted a hedge which after six or so months we finally got the first trim, and it’s looking quite good.
The most recent enhancement is the last layer, a row of contrasting colourful native plants, which also need very little maintenance.
But, the point, it’s the second day of spring on this side of the world, and gardens everywhere are about to bloom, skies are going to be bluer, and the temperatures rising.
You know the saying, ‘ah, spring is in the air’. For all those who do not suffer from hay-fever.
We as authors always like to see two little words in every review, page turner.
Alas, sometimes they’re not, but usually this applied to non fiction simple because they’re reference books. Then another two words apply: boat anchor.
The good stuff is usually over the page.
Page in this instance refers to a leaf in a book, which generally has many pages.
Then the is a page boy, not what you’d find lurking around these days but were more common in days past, but refers to a boy in training to become a knight, or an errand boy for a nobleman.
These days a page boy opens doors and runs messages in a hotel.
Another variation is being paged over the P.A. system, always a major cause of embarrassment because you and everyone else thinks your in trouble.
Of course, before there were mobile phones, there were pagers, and sometimes in the deathly silence of the classroom, it went off. Definitely not advisable to have one on you if you are trying to sneak up on someone. Same goes for the modern equivalent, the mobile phone.
For the person who uses a word processor, you are familiar with pages, and having the software generate page numbers, of course, not for the title page, and a different numbering for other pages like an index, before the story starts.
Complicated? Sometimes.
And many years ago a boss of mine often used to say I needed to turn over a new page, and it did make much sense to me. That might have been because I was young and stupid. But, later on I realised what he was really saying was that I needed to turn over a new leaf.
Kind of strange, but then a lot saying are.
And did I?
Eventually.
And just to end on a high note, Paige is also the name of a girl, I think, and one I’ve decided to use in a story.
West Lake is a freshwater lake in Hangzhou, China. It is divided into five sections by three causeways. There are numerous temples, pagodas, gardens, and artificial islands within the lake.
Measuring 3.2 kilometers (2 miles) in length, 2.8 kilometers (1.7 miles) in width, and 2.3 meters (7.5 feet) in average depth, the lake spreads itself in an area totaling 6.5 square kilometers (2.5 square miles).
The earliest recorded name for West Lake was the “Wu Forest River”, but over time it changed to two distinct names. One is “Qiantang Lake”, due to the fact that Hangzhou was called “Qiantang” in ancient times. The other, “West Lake”, due to the lake being west of the city
It’s about to get busy, with a number of activities planned, and the warmth of the day is starting to make an impact.
The tour starts in the car park about a kilometer away, but the moment we left the car park we were getting a taste of the park walking along a tree-lined avenue.
When we cross the road, once again dicing with death with the silent assassins on motor scooters.
We are in the park proper, and it is magnificent, with flowers, mostly at the start hydrangeas and then any number of other trees and shrubs, some carved into other flower shapes like a lotus.
Then there was the lake and the backdrop of bridges and walkways.
And if you can tune out the background white noise the place would be great for serenity and relaxation.
That, in fact, was how the boat ride panned out, about half an hour or more gliding across the lake in an almost silent boat, by an open window, with the air and the majestic scenery.
No, not that boat, which would be great to have lunch on while cruising, but the boat below:
Not quite in the same class, but all the same, very easy to tune out and soak it in.
It was peaceful, amazingly quiet, on a summery day
A pagoda in the hazy distance, an island we were about to circumnavigate.
Of all the legends, the most touching one is the love story between Bai Suzhen and Xu Xi’an. Bai Suzhen was a white snake spirit and Xu Xi’an was a mortal man.
They fell in love when they first met on a boat on the West Lake, and got married very soon after.
However, the evil monk Fa Hai attempted to separate the couple by imprisoning Xu Xi’an. Bai Suzhen fought against Fa Hai and tried her best to rescue her husband, but she failed and was imprisoned under the Leifeng Pagoda by the lake.
Years later the couple was rescued by Xiao Qing, the sister of Baisuzhen, and from then on, Bai Suzhen and Xu Xi’an lived together happily.
The retelling of the story varied between tour guides, and on the cruise boat, we had two. Our guide kept to the legend, the other tour guide had a different ending.
Suffice to say it had relevance to the two pagodas on the far side of the lake.
There was a cafe or restaurant on the island, but that was not our lunch destination.
Nor were the buildings further along from where we disembarked.
All in all the whole cruise took about 45 minutes and was an interesting break from the hectic nature of the tour.
Oh yes, and the boat captain had postcards for sale. We didn’t buy any.
Lunch
At the disembarkation point there was a mall that sold souvenirs and had a few ‘fast food’ shops, and a KFC, not exactly what we came to China for, but it seemed like the only place in town a food cautious Australian could eat at.
And when tried to get in the door, that’s where at least 3 busloads were, if they were not in the local Starbucks. Apparently, these were the places of first choice wherever we went.
The chicken supply by the time we got to the head of the line amounted to pieces at 22.5 RMB a piece and nuggets. Everything else had run out, and for me, there were only 5 pieces left. Good thing there were chips.
And Starbucks with coffee and cheesecake.
At least the setting for what could have been a picnic lunch was idyllic.
He realizes we are now part of a different world driven by the events surrounding the COVID 19 virus.
The grandchildren are here while their parents are working, and they are going to school remotely, that is one is in the kitchen and one is in the dining room, remotely linked to their school, teachers, and classmates.
Chester finds this interesting because they are not trying to find him, so, he’s come out to see what they’re doing.
First, he jumps up on the dining table and sits next to the 13-year-old. She is hard at work. I hear him ask if there is anything he can help with given his vast knowledge of everything.
There’s a universal greeting from 30 others, and he tries to find where all the other people are. No, it’s not hide and seek, they’re all online she tries to tell him.
No, doesn’t get it. They must be in the room somewhere. And he’s suddenly miffed that he can’t find them, and then that his assistance is not required.
All too much to cope with, he comes out to join the 10-year-old sitting at the kitchen table. She had headphones on and doesn’t hear him.
This time he sits on the floor and looks up thinking, if they can’t see him, he’s not there. She ignores him. I don’t think mathematics is his strong point.
So, he wanders into the office, planning to annoy me.
I find some headphones and put them on. He gets the message, no interruptions today, everyone is hard at work.
A sigh, then he goes to his corner and lies down on his bed, yawns and closes his eyes.
I know he’s not asleep. He’s waiting for something to happen, ready to spring into action.
This was going to be about my usual taxi run, picking up one or other of the grandchildren from either school, or the railway station, to take them home, a benefit their parents have with grand parents with nothing better to do.
I say that tongue in cheek, because I usually have something else to do, but it is a pleasurable experience for wither of us because it means we get to spend some time with our grandchildren while they are young, and before they discover that world out there that we ‘oldies’ would know nothing about.
I have no doubt there are times when they think we have past our use by date. It’s the bane of all old people sooner or later, unless they forge a close relationship with them in those early years.
I like to think we have, but you can never tell.
We’d like to be able to give them an independent ear, people who will listen to them and not judge, not in the way parents would. I remember myself saying that my parents would never understand the problems we had, that it was nothing like that when they were our age.
It’s the same now. The mantra is the same, but the generation has shifted, and I guess to a certain extent they are right. We didn’t have computers, mobile phones, or the endless supply of cash to go out with our friends to the mall, to the movies, to parties, sleep overs. We just didn’t have the money period, even if those activities existed in our time.
There wasn’t television, computer games, we had to find our own amusement, in the street, with other kids, using our imagination. We had to socially mix, talk to other kids, and there wasn’t the level of marriage breakups, broken homes, and distressed kids, not in our day. Divorce was a dirty word, spoken in hushed tones.
Now it seems homes with a mother and a father living together, or still talking to each other civilly, is a miracle rather than the norm. What the hell went wrong in 50 years? It seems to me that in the last 25 years we have presided over a world that has fallen to pieces, and, failing to recognise the looming disaster, we just sat by and watched it unfold.
And just how I managed to get so melancholy while waiting for a child at the railways station, I’ll never know. Perhaps it was the observance of several kids bullying another, perhaps it was because I sat in a locked car partially fearful about that trouble spilling over.
I know when I was a child my parents instilled in me a respect for others, even if I didn’t agree with them, or, god forbid, I didn’t like them. Like now, I get along with anyone and everyone because it was how we were taught.
Then.
What happened since then?
Did we forget slowly over time the virtue of tolerance and respect?
Fortunately the train, and my granddaughter has arrived, so I can cease with the rant. The children hassling each other had to run to the train and what might have been an unpleasant scene dissipated without violence.
She gets in the car, after I unlock the doors and it’s the start of a fifteen minute discussion about her day at school. It, too, is very different from my day, but, in it’s way, still the same battlefield between students and teachers.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 