Three weeks of. . . .

on the first night alone in China I come to realise that I have already passed three weeks in this country that I familiarized somewhat quickly and yet still leaves me stunned so many times.

Three weeks of seeing the most beautiful and amazing mountains, rich of tasty tea and rice cultures (to say it the Chinese way) alongside the highest hills of trash I have ever seen.

Three weeks of glimpsing at Chinese pleasurably caressing their naked belly prooving at once the quality of Chinese food (I must say that I am speechless although I do not admit it in public) as well as the tolerance for rather well nurtured body indexes.

Ok, it might just be the heat. The almost three weeks persisting temperatures from 30 to 40 degrees C are not bearable unless you take off your shirt or you take a huge break around noon, allowing your stomach to digest what is yet so delicious yet too much when it is too hot to even think about having a hot meal for lunch.

Three weeks of bike riding of which I did but a few days due to the fact that I enjoyed some wonderful days at the home of my new Chinese friend, that we decided to take the time to discover a little bit the places we were going to and not to be hilarously stupid by riding the bike all day long during pouring Asian rain.

Therefore three weeks of loneliness of which not a single day had been lonely so far, as I meet yet another and still another Chinese inviting me to follow them.

Three weeks of indescribable hospitality, ranging from spontanous help at the train station to invitation of all kinds - and it is quite hard to refuse an invitation of a Chinese. But the past three weeks also proved that the Chinese are debating on a regular basis who has the right to pay how much. . .

Instead of having the feeling to have come closer to the country I feel somewhat further away. Three weeks of discussing Mao Zedong's and other Chinese poems, the good or bad of Hitlers ideas bring me once again back to Socrates: the only thing I know is that I know nothing. . .

Who and where are we know? Who are we to judge other people's life/political ideology? Where are we going tomorrow?

I will definetly be going to the Vietnamese consulate in Nanning tomorrow not knowing what expects me there - no information on the internet, appearantly too dangerous the site. . .

Three weeks of bike and train rides, wonderful landscape and air pollution, enjoying delicous food and overfeeding, three weeks of heat and rain, three weeks of language efforts with successes but helas yet more disappointements.

What is coming next? Who knows, but I am very, very anxious to disover it.

Good night