Mobile phone use here is different to the UK. For a start, most people have a clamshell style folding phone, including men. And a good deal of people have two phones. Even the poor folk who wear tatters and ride around in decrepit tricycles going through people’s rubbish all have a small mobile in a leather case attached to their belts. It’s not as though they are particularly cheap – reasonably small ones ranging from £60 to much, much more. And I believe that most people have to pay to receive a call (although I am on a different tariff so it’s free to receive but probably more to make calls).
The other thing is the tones. Not once have I heard ring ring or any of its family. It’s always some mad pop song that would get you booed off the 7.39 to Charing Cross. Even Tan changed her tone to something more jazzy when she got here. Ok, I admit it. After being given strange looks for my British ring ring I set my tone to be Land Down Under by Men at Work. Hope I remember to turn it back before I get home.
Lastly is the funny expression people give to their phones when receiving a call. Women especially, upon receiving a call, will wait the statutory 12 seconds before fishing out the phone from their bag. Then they will open it and hold an expression on their faces for another few seconds that makes them look as if they’re trying to work out a particularly difficult quantum mechanics equation, before finally pushing “Accept” and shouting “Waaaayyyyyyy!!”, (which is the way you answer a phone in Chinese, although it doesn’t have to be that loud). I used to think this was because a great deal of people haven’t programmed names into phones, and still use recognition of the phone number as a way of determining who is calling, but I have seen the exact same behaviour on women that have names on their phones that come up when someone is calling. It must be something to do with pretending you are so busy you can’t answer phone within 10 seconds of someone calling, or you want as many people to know as possible that someone is calling you.
Anyway, in the evening Xiao Li and I went out for a massage at a different place from before (the wives had had theirs during the day). The price has gone up in Pingguo from 25 to 30 kuai for an hour (about £2). Despite this ridiculous rise in inflation we paid anyway. The massage was the best I’ve had here. For the first time I was able to relax my neck sufficiently that the woman was able to crack it both ways by twisting my head to the left and the right! In fact she cracked just about every bone in my body – the trick is to massage the area well first and stretch the bones. They also apply pressure on specific places (I think they’re called acupoints), which can be painful at times (e.g. on the gums) but must be good for you.
The sore point of the massage was about half way through when the woman started on my legs. They first put pressure using their thumb on an area high up on the inside leg and hold it there for a few seconds. Well, the right leg was fine, after which she proceeded to do the relevant massage and stuff. Then she moved on to the left. I don’t know if it was her first time on a foreigner (I suspect so), but she managed to apply pressure on a particularly sensitive piece of skin that wasn’t part of my leg. Being a man, I bit my tongue and bore some significant pain for 30 seconds (I counted each long one), while she blindly got on with her otherwise very good job.
To be honest I’ve feared this every time I’ve been for a massage, but so far dressing to the left has served me well. I’ll have to reconsider for future sessions. Thank God she wasn’t particularly attractive or it could have been worse.
At least I had managed to allay my fears about European bodies being structured differently from Chinese ones. Ok, so I’m taller and hairier and fairer and whiter than them, but I think I have the same amount of bones in the same places. But until today I couldn’t properly relax, worrying that they may try to crack a bone that existed in Chinese bodies but not in English ones, and render me unable to walk again. I then performed a thought experiment regarding Leilei that showed me the folly of my ways – I mean, would he have an extra bone from his mum if she had one? And no, it’s not true about spare ribs.
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