The Inward, Outward Journey

Every morning after I awake and go downstairs and sing one Hanuman Chalisa from my songbook I purchased in Rishikesh, I run around the dirt track that circles a soccer field. Yesterday in my path I found a Joker playing card lying face up. I take it to be a sign for me. I am the joker, the fool, the one who's number is: 0; I am at a new beginning. I am the one foolish enough to come this far to teach this many ambitious Chinese. I must be good humored about my mistakes and challenges, and have a free heart. The fool card.
Last night we stumbled upon a restaurant and sat down at an outside table to see what would happen. What happened was cold beer, Edemame in plastic baggies sold to us for 1.5 yuan, and sizzling meat on sticks over a fire in the middle of the table. I have learned the hand signal for ten (a closed fist) and the word for meat (zho) and we order 10 more. In an infinite universe we would keep on showing her my closed fist and she would forever bring us 10 more sizzling beef with flavorful fat on sticks.
We dry laundry on a pink string and the pants outside over the 2nd floor balcony. I drink boiled water, and like to chew coca-cola flavored bubble gum. Tomorow is my first day. I think more about what I'm going to wear, then what I'm going to say. My first class is a guinea pig. The following classes are well managed Guinea pigs.
After reading Isabel Allende's book I am afraid of the dark. I imagine spirits want to connect with me. The biggest lightning storm of my life spreads light across the sky above our apartment. Through the curtains come beams of light, and the thunder shakes the foundation. I try not to think about spirits when our black-screened computer turns on and beeps. The lightning outside gives it life.
I finally give way to sleep, and awake 8 hours later to hang clothes, brew tea, and explore down the rain-beaten campus sidewalk.