The temperature at night is warm enough to open the window. I like sleeping with the window open; having the fresh, cool air fill the room, my nostrils, as I lie under my thick quilt. This moment lasts for just a little while, may be a couple of months, that period between too cold and too hot.
I was thinking about how comforting it is to have the window screened. At this time of year Iām not worried about insects as much as rogue squirrels. The idea of these little beasts entering the inner sanctum while Iām asleep and running across my face terrifies me. Yet, while that sheer screen of wire or nylon seems so frail, it is sufficient to provide protection and solace.
The screen reminded me of our first trip to China, now over 20 years ago. It was very different then from now. As we skirted from place to place through the streets of Beijing in our mini-bus most of the traffic was of bicycles and small motor bikes. There were only a few cars. Traffic control was not by light signals but by traffic control officers. Within the bus we were in our separated world, unexposed to the weather, the temperature, the smog, dust, smells, but able to watch what was happening around us. It was only when we reached our destination, that we got out and immersed ourselves into the place.
Yet freed from the confines of the prophylactic steel and glass, it was now the guide who mediated our experience. Who showed us what we should see, explained what we should know, avoided what was not worthwhile, told us prescribed state-sanctioned stories, communicated with the local people. Peppered among the historic and cultural sites where the Friendship Stores where we could buy our souvenirs.
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