Leo and the Cave

At the Double Dragon cave entrance, with moss hanging over it, I tried to get out of the guy's way as he took a picture of his son, but then the son moved in front of me making a peace sign, so I moved again, and then I realized I was the point of the photo, so I made a peace sign and the dad said, “Thank you.” They tried the same with Kerri who rolled her eyes and kvetched. We had to lay on our backs on a tiny boat and float under a huge rock. I tried to take a picture but claustrophobic Kerri got out, refusing. They talked her back in, and she lay down, cursing.
She reported a panic attack on the other side and Dee and I tried to hug her, and she pushed us away.
“I'm claustrophobic!” she said, which was a valid point.
When the lady described how the stalactite looked like a dragon, Kerri said, “Wonderful.”
“You're bad-natured,” I said. She smiled.

It was dank and cold. Dee pointed to the ceiling, where more stalactites and watermarks supposedly looked like things. It was like constellations to me: four dots do not make a woman. Everyone was on peyote in ancient times, I think.
“It's a sword,” Dee said.
“I don't see it,” Kerri said.
“Right there,” I said. “It's a stain.”
Kerri giggled.
Dee said, “It's here to protect the cave.”
Kerri said, “Welcome to the batcave?”
We had to duck to see the next attraction.
Dee pointed to another stain, and said “It's a bat. Do you see it?”
I giggled.
The guide pointed to along stalactite, explaining it was known as “Luxury light.”
“Chandelier?” I said. I was freezing in the cave, and being rude and silly to cheer up poor, panicked Kerri.
“If the frog eats the fairy grass, he will live forever,” said our guide.
“Let's eat some,” Kerri said.
Dee laughed.
“That's the spirit,” I said.


I listened to a "Badly Drawn Boy" song in my earphones and missed my sister. We got stuck with Mr. Fan’s son all day, Dee's student. Nice kid with an absent but lovable, drunk-driving father. With the kid came a driver, so we hit the road.

Michael Bolton came on, and the driver turned it up eagerly. The boy Liu Fan, who I dubbed Leo, started opening and closing his hands rhythmically. “He likes this song,” Kerri said.
“Bolton's getting respect here. He's the Hasselhoff of China,” I said.
Still, I had to admit it was catchy. They had to go through the same steps we did, to get to current MTV music. I didn't want to breathe the driver's smoke. Why have I often put so much energy into my anti-smoking views? I think it's a longing for simplicity. It's always so complicated in life, knowing what the right thing to do is, but smoking? Of course you don't do that.



We ascended a beautiful mountain with a very curvy road, making me nauseous. We looked down on green valleys, and both Kerri and I recalled summers in Maine with our families. Dee said if you sit on hot stones too long, then you won't be able to pee. They wanted to leave, and we were bewildered. It was the most relaxing place we'd been. Leo, though 16, chased ants with the enthusiasm of a 10-year-old. He looked 12. Dee threw her plastic bag on the ground. This was a major pet peeve for me in my country, and I didn't want to tell her how to be in hers, so I just picked it up.


At lunch on a hillside, a cat chewed on anything that fell from the table, and Kerri turned away as the cook killed the chicken and plucked it in full view. I liked that no-nonsense attitude about China--everything was either food or not food, so it was stupid to have hang-ups about it.











Kerri’s knees seemed to be getting worse. She’d been in pain all day from walking stairs, and I sympathized in spite of her complaining. She suggested bowling. Leo said, “We play, my father will pay.” Everyone laughed.

We all played the frustrating game of bowling. I threw 2 strikes in a row, then did the exact same thing and knocked down one pin. I can’t deal with an exercise like that. And what is the point of bowling shoes?


Later, Dee wanted to have Pizza Hut again, her new love. As we devoured cheese pizza, Dee said to Kerri, “I want to thank you for teaching me about using the arrows. I have been bowling many times before but never good.”
I sat and stewed because it has been me that had shown Dee this. Kerri had heard me talk last night about how much I’d valued my “Unsung Hero” award at baseball camp when I was 11, and how I often felt like that, and gave me credit.
“342 more days,” said Kerri, smiling to acknowledge my neediness of credit. This cut into the generosity of her previous comment.
“What that means, 342 days?” said Dee.
“It means she is sick of me already,” I said.
“Why?” Dee said. “Jeremy is boring?”
“No,” Kerri said. “The opposite of boring: too much.”
“Annoying,” I said.
“Not boring?” Dee said.
“Jeremy boring is the best,” Leo said.
“Hmm?” I said. “Oh, thank you.”
“No, he's not boring,” Kerri said. “Annoying.”
“He means ‘bowling.’” I said. I was already competing with her for who was going to be the best ESL teacher. This is what we do, and she knew it.
“Oh,” Kerri said.
Little Lord Fauntleroy wanted to try Scrabble again. The already slow game was even slower when your opponent had no vocabulary.
Kerri rolled her eyes. “I just want to relax.”
“Not now, later,” I said to him. “People are still eating.”
“Okay,” he said.
“See how I look out for you?” I said.
You had to push on the door labeled “pull.” Leo asked me to play ping-pong, after saying his father was never home. Kerri went home to try and fix her laptop, and we planned a movie for later, with no running around tomorrow. We drove past women in red doing traditional dances.
“I fall in love,” I said, “with five people at once.”
Dee said, “I see,” in her high-pitched, good-natured way.
“You like when I fall in love with just anyone,” I said to Kerri.
“C'est ephemere,” said Kerri.
“So is life,” I said.
I get the last word, cause this is my blog.