Of course my postal scam got immediately busted:
I got criticized, and I didn’t hesitate to criticize back.
They said I should go to the Department of Cultural Affairs to get a permit. I told them they were a bunch of hicks from the countryside, and then I went on to say some other mean things. I just couldn’t help it.
We argued for a while, and the whole thing felt like we were riding into a dead-end street together.
Then the right words suddenly dawned on me: “wait a minute – what if I brought my notebook and showed you what’s on the DVDs?” (yes, I’m done here)
You won’t believe it: finally, after three hours…
…my dear dear photographs were on their way home!
Then, with the happiness and the relief, came the regretful feelings for all the mean things that I had said to these poor people.
I told them that I was sincerely sorry.
And I meant it.
Then I went and had another look at the Caboose:
So what was I going to do with the rest of this day?
I had heard of an almost legendary place called Mati Temple 马蹄寺, but that was supposed to be a 2-hour ride by bus, and there was no way I was going to get there today.
So I went to another park, one that was very close to the city:
I walked around and sat by the river until the day had grown old:
Then I returned to my hotel room, took off my shirt and sat down in the evening heat to write up yesterday’s article.
…it was 22:25 when the police came knocking on my door:
“Passport, visa, routine check!”
No hello, no smile, no nothing.
I stood there in my shorts, looking into flashlights, then I got out my documents and handed them over.
This time I somehow miraculously maintained a very courteous manner: “Gentlemen, it is ten thirty at night, and I just don’t think you are being very polite!”
They didn’t even answer.