Walking through Victory Square in downtown Dalian yesterday, I am approached by a young girl who is clutching an armful of flowers. Holding them out to me and asking me to buy one, I politely decline. "Bu yao-le, xie xie," I say to her multiple times as she pleads with me. In an attempt to continue on my way, she steps in front of me. I respond in the same apologetic way, "Don't want any, thank you." Again, she steps in front of me, this time needling her small, sharp elbows into my legs and thrusting the flowers toward my face.
This went on for a couple minutes before reaching my tipping point. Lightly holding her shoulders to prevent any further assault, I say to her, "Hey. Xiao ren (little person). Look at me! Bu keyi (not okay). Bu yao (don't want). Zai jian (goodbye)." Finally she relents, head drooping in sadness. As she walks away, she spies a nearby couple and swoops in on the unassuming future victims, carrying out her assault in the same manner. Sorry kid, no luck this time.
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As I'm writing this, two pigeons are trying to get in my open patio door. I'm not lying. Little do they know that they're in for a world of fury if they succeed.
T
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