Mates for life. We could learn from fowl. Shenzhen, PRC, October 17, 2007.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Offerings at Po Fook Memorial Hall ©Asian Ramblings

I wanted to see the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery. Inadequate signage left me exploring the Po Fook Memorial Hall thinking it was the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery. Cool place, I’m certain this happens all the time.

This terraced cemetery is actually a number of memorial halls. It’s quiet in Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong. The New Territories are a whole different world from Nathan Road or LKF. With a pagoda, incense, and much Buddhist iconography I think I wouldn’t mind having my ashes rest here: It’s serene.

I did eventually find the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery. Photos to follow.

Po Fook Memorial Hall and 10000 Buddhas Monastery on Google Earth

A shrine to Kǒng Fūzǐ, better known as Confucius, in the Princes City, Guilin, China. Guilin has been one of China’s top tourist spots since the 14th century.

School has started and Stevo offers you something from the archives (until his time management skills improves).

When a young man’s fancy turns to the opposite sex does he imagine he will spend his spare time washing her dirty clothes?

No.

In those heady pubescent days of hand-holding, walks in the parks, and graceless backseat ϋber-romantic fumblings, laundry and its immortal presence is far, far away. Getting a troublesome bra hook successfully unlatched is the main thought, not washing the bra and hanging it on the line.

Perhaps we are under-educating the young men of North America. I can remember a lesson on healthy relationships in high school health class (taught by a misogynistic, mustachioed, muscle-headed gym teacher). I don’t think he mentioned washing the clothes of your sweetie. That fact that all male gym teachers are biologically engineered in a secret facility is a matter for another post. Another reason to have a home gym.

This isn’t an image seen in romantic movies. Maybe that’s why most of them end just after the wedding. Does the audience want to see its hero lose face, washing his beloved’s delicates in the sink? Maybe women do. Not the men, it strikes too close to home. With images like that in the collective unconscious, co-habitation and marriage rates would plummet. Men, most of whom will draw upon the dodgiest of reasons to avoid commitment, would avoid the opposite sex like children avoid a bath.

Seeing too-cool Paul Varjak washing Holly Golightly’s unmentionables would be the kiss of death for box office tallies, unless you count the small yet vocal fetish community. Rick Blaine, with a cigarette in one corner of his mouth and a clothes pin in the other, hanging Ilsa Lund’s lingerie on the line would make a disturbing figure. Maybe it’s best that Ilsa left Casablanca. Can you imagine the sequel if they had stayed together?

“I’m going to fight the Germans with the Free French,” Rick would say, lighting a cigarette and loading his pistol.

“Did you get the béarnaise stain out of my blouse?” Ilsa would ask.

Rick, wincing as the verbal flogging in français from the rag-tag garrison began, would mutter, “Yes, dear.”

I’m not complaining. Nor am I hung up on 50s-style gender roles. I didn’t expect June Cleaver to be my wife, vacuuming in a crisp and spotless dress, pearls adorning her shapely neck. I’m only reflecting that I was never told (or imagined) I’d spend hung-over Saturday mornings waiting for the spin cycle to end.

Relationships are a partnership, or the good ones are. I wash and hang, and my ai ren fluffs, folds and puts away. Since she can’t reach the clothesline without a step ladder, and I hate balling socks, it’s a good compromise.

Every day a new challenge presents itself, to be faced with diligence and vigor. After I’ve finished the laundry.

Today’s guest post is from Robin at Bountiful Healing. A lover of the lens, Robin captures images of true beauty. She takes up the slack with a tale of Americana as stevo enjoys a sabbatical.

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Lucy the Elephant - Margate, New Jersey - From Robin at Boutiful Healing

Lucy the Elephant is a wood and tin sheeting, six-story example of zoomorphic architecture.  She lives in Margate, New Jersey in the U.S., less than a block away from the beach.  Lucy was built in 1882 by James V. Lafferty in a grand attempt to attract tourists and sell real estate.  She’s 60 feet high, 60 feet long, and weighs about 90 tons.  She is one of three architectural follies (all elephants) built by Lafferty.  Lucy is the only one to have survived time, disinterest, and the elements.

You can climb up inside of Lucy.  The stairs which lead you into the belly of the elephant are located in her hind legs.  Her belly has been beautifully refurbished as part of the Save Lucy campaign which began in 1970.  Once up the stairs and inside of Lucy’s belly, there is another set of stairs that lead to the “howdah,” the riding carriage on Lucy’s back.  From there you can look out over the beach and the Atlantic ocean as well as see various views of Margate including the water tower with a painting of Lucy.

Over the years, Lucy has served as a tavern, a restaurant, an office, and a cottage.  She acquired a bathtub when she was used as a cottage, but there has never been any running water (other than leaks) in Lucy so filling the tub took a bit of work.

If you ever happen to find yourself in or near Margate, New Jersey, stop by and see Lucy.  There is an admission fee, but it’s reasonable and it goes towards Lucy’s restoration and upkeep.

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In her own words: Robin is an amateur photographer who lives in the snow belt of northeastern Ohio. She currently holds the titles of Best Sandwich Maker Ever, Mom, Wife, and That Crazy Lady Who Never Goes Anywhere Without Her Camera … more

More from my Guangzhou series. I’m think of taking a model in traditional Chinese dress and doing something really interesting.

Captured: October 23, 2008.