I went to the gym after I battled once more with my Chinese learning. I decided to keep walking on the side of the road that I end up on anyway, instead of crossing early, because I reasoned I'd be less likely to be ploughed down by oncoming motorbikes on that side. This decision led me to meet a very interesting girl.
Not far from the gym there is a crossing. I stood waiting for the speeding vehicles to pass in front when I spotted the girl. She had beautiful long brown hip-length hair, wore a tight black dress and black heels. The conservative grandmother in me began hauling mental abuse at her for displaying her body in such a fashion, something the grandmother in me strictly agreed with herself that, should only be seen in nightclubs or other places of that ilk. The only odd thing I noticed about her was how she was wearing a white surgical mask. Surely someone as fashion-conscious as this lady would not compromise her look for her health?
Anyway, I hushed the grandmother for a little while and crossed the road.
'Thank you', I heard someone say. I turned around and it was the girl talking to me. Her English was very good and the next thing she said helped me understand why.
'I'm from Hong Kong'. She then began speaking very fast, jumbling her words. I wasn't sure what she wanted exactly.
'Where are you from?', she asked me. She told me she'd been in Jinan for a year and a half and that she was studying business. She was really very pretty but I couldn't shake the thought that had just entered into my mind that she worked as a prostitute. She couldn't have been much older than me.
I discovered why she was wearing a mask on her face. It was to hide the smell of alcohol that saturated her breath. As she spoke to me she let the mask slide slightly.
She wanted my number and a part of me wanted to give it to her, I felt she needed my help. But another art of me told me to stay out of it. 'You don't know what kind of things you may get yourself into', the voice of reason shouted at me.
I lied and told her I didn't have my phone and I didn't know my number. In another f her jumbled mumblings she said that someone in a night club yesterday had stolen the battery of her phone. That's it, just the battery. It was at this point that I noticed the grubby purple plastic bag she was carrying. That definitely does not fit her fashionable image, I thought.
She pulled out a worn out purple leopard skin purse. 'See, I'm from Hong Kong', she told me as she pulled out her passport that was in her purse. Then she took out the mobile phone which, as she had told me previously, did not have a battery.
As she was searching for her phone I noticed she had quite a bit of bruising on her arms and a small burn-type wound on her right hand.
She settled on typing in her email address into the Ipod I was holding in my hand and told me to send her my number as soon as I got home. I hated being two-faced. I hated being nice and kind to her face, then when I would leave her I knew that I wouldn't follow up on my kindness with the act of giving her my number. But, I reasoned, we are all two-faced. That's what society forces up to become. We all have at least one public and one private persona but in reality, we all 'play many parts' on the stage of life, as Mr William Shakespeare said himslef in 'As you like it'. I noticed her email address had the word 'men' in it twice. Maybe it's a nickname, I thought, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.
After a safe distance I decided to erase the email address from my Ipod. But it would take much longer to erase the memory of that beautiful girl from Hong Kong, with her hidden secrets.
Not far from the gym there is a crossing. I stood waiting for the speeding vehicles to pass in front when I spotted the girl. She had beautiful long brown hip-length hair, wore a tight black dress and black heels. The conservative grandmother in me began hauling mental abuse at her for displaying her body in such a fashion, something the grandmother in me strictly agreed with herself that, should only be seen in nightclubs or other places of that ilk. The only odd thing I noticed about her was how she was wearing a white surgical mask. Surely someone as fashion-conscious as this lady would not compromise her look for her health?
Anyway, I hushed the grandmother for a little while and crossed the road.
'Thank you', I heard someone say. I turned around and it was the girl talking to me. Her English was very good and the next thing she said helped me understand why.
'I'm from Hong Kong'. She then began speaking very fast, jumbling her words. I wasn't sure what she wanted exactly.
'Where are you from?', she asked me. She told me she'd been in Jinan for a year and a half and that she was studying business. She was really very pretty but I couldn't shake the thought that had just entered into my mind that she worked as a prostitute. She couldn't have been much older than me.
I discovered why she was wearing a mask on her face. It was to hide the smell of alcohol that saturated her breath. As she spoke to me she let the mask slide slightly.
She wanted my number and a part of me wanted to give it to her, I felt she needed my help. But another art of me told me to stay out of it. 'You don't know what kind of things you may get yourself into', the voice of reason shouted at me.
I lied and told her I didn't have my phone and I didn't know my number. In another f her jumbled mumblings she said that someone in a night club yesterday had stolen the battery of her phone. That's it, just the battery. It was at this point that I noticed the grubby purple plastic bag she was carrying. That definitely does not fit her fashionable image, I thought.
She pulled out a worn out purple leopard skin purse. 'See, I'm from Hong Kong', she told me as she pulled out her passport that was in her purse. Then she took out the mobile phone which, as she had told me previously, did not have a battery.
As she was searching for her phone I noticed she had quite a bit of bruising on her arms and a small burn-type wound on her right hand.
She settled on typing in her email address into the Ipod I was holding in my hand and told me to send her my number as soon as I got home. I hated being two-faced. I hated being nice and kind to her face, then when I would leave her I knew that I wouldn't follow up on my kindness with the act of giving her my number. But, I reasoned, we are all two-faced. That's what society forces up to become. We all have at least one public and one private persona but in reality, we all 'play many parts' on the stage of life, as Mr William Shakespeare said himslef in 'As you like it'. I noticed her email address had the word 'men' in it twice. Maybe it's a nickname, I thought, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.
After a safe distance I decided to erase the email address from my Ipod. But it would take much longer to erase the memory of that beautiful girl from Hong Kong, with her hidden secrets.
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