Chinese Women, Asian Women, Online Dating & Things Chinese and Asian
Beautiful
Chinese
Women
of
CLM
Beautiful
Asian
Women
of
ALM
Imi was born and raised in Europe, Hungary. After finishing his school years, he moved to Canada to search for a better life. He lived in Toronto for 13 years and currently resides in Vancouver. He is a romantic at heart with a strong desire to always do the right thing. He would like to give hope to the Chinese and Asian ladies with his story and send a message that love eventually finds everybody.
Articles :
61
Views :
247140
Comments :
1421
Create Time :
2013-12-02
This Blog's Articles
Index of Blogs
Index Blog Articles

The Hotel Maid the Shouting Boy and the Manager    

By Imi
556 Views | 10 Comments | 4/22/2018 1:29:43 AM

Visiting China always cracks something open inside me. If I want to describe this thing, I close my eyes, and it will appear as a hotel room that has just been put back into operation after being unused for a long while. Its door and windows are wide open to air the place out. Furniture is dusted off, floors swept. After the final once-over, the room is ready to do the only thing it's supposed to do: accommodate fresh memories.

 

On my ninth trip to China, three people besides my wife frequented this room of mine. They entertained me just as passing scenarios amuse a commuter on a train. Even though I saw these people every day, I never got bored with watching them. They were down-to-earth—my kind of people. I believe that not seeing them would have made my morning coffee tasteless and my day unsatisfactory.

 

On this last trip, I asked my wife to hang around in Shenzhen for my entire stay. However, I did not ask this because Shenzhen has many sites to visit. To be honest, the city doesn't offer me much beside plentiful beautiful women to look at. And since I’m already married, not even that appealed to me. I'm done looking. I'm done searching. An occasional glance here and there to appreciate the exotic beauty of Asian women is enough for me. 

 

In forty years, Shenzhen has grown from a small market town of thirty thousand people to a modern metropolis of over nine million. Only in China can you see such a spectacular achievement of growth. The cityscape must have grown out of the soil like the chrysanthemums in my mother's garden. It's very impressive. But having said that, the buildings are not much different from what I can see in Canada. If Shenzhen had remained a small town in its traditional and straightforward sublimity, I would have been more curious about it, more affected. But that's just me. To others, though, the city provides copious opportunities to start a brand-new life and a platform from which to take a leap of faith.

 

Unfortunately, my wife had gained a few extra pounds in the last couple of months. Even though those pounds were few in number, they looked to be more on her tiny body than they would have on an average-size person. I noticed them right away as I stepped through the gate and into the airport's lobby. They settled comfortably on her lower tummy like bad-mannered guests perching on your couch, ignoring your subtle hints that it's time to leave. Very annoying. But I can be annoying, too. Impolite, in fact.

 

“You're fat,” I said, acknowledging the predicament right after we had greeted each other.

 

She said nothing in response to my abrupt statement, and only gave me the glance that I was already familiar with—warning of trouble. Those dark, piercing eyes said all there was on her mind. All which was verbalized in the taxi as we left the airport.

 

“No ‘I missed you’? No ‘I’m happy to see you’?” she said as we sat in the backseat. “How long has it been? Nearly a year, I believe. And this is what I get? Your first sentence, after all these months, is ‘You're fat’?”

 

In the hotel, in a more comfortable setting, I expressed my regrets for my rude behavior, and she also admitted her wrongdoing in the matter. Apparently, for months she'd been eating out with her workmates late at night. She had no time to go to the gym or exercise at home. But her confession was everything that I consider a lame excuse and weak defense. I sentenced her to two weeks of training under my supervision and eating the food that I allowed her to. A bit harsh? Maybe. But I've never heard anyone say it’s easy to stay in shape over forty. Even if you're Asian, sylphlike, and have been eating all your life like there’s no tomorrow without gaining an inch around your waist, old age will eventually catch up with you and make you start watching your diet. Unless, of course, you're a genetic freak. A gene pool of wonders—the envy of the rest of the world.

 

Every morning we woke early and ate at seven. The hotel had this buffet-style setting in its restaurant, and yummy foods were kept fresh under huge steamers. I could only imagine how my wife felt, nibbling on some vegetables and fruits in that dense, food-permeated air. But she didn't complain and ate the food I recommended. Thirty minutes after our light breakfast, off we went to the gym. It became our routine: breakfast, gym, and walk around Shenzhen in the afternoon. One day gone. What's next? I guess the same.

 

It was during this daily routine that I met three people who made my trip even more pleasurable.

 

The Hotel Maid 

 

I met the hotel maid in the lobby on my first morning. I’d left the breakfast table and gone upstairs to visit the washroom in our room. I could have used the restroom in the restaurant, but the privacy of the toilet in our room won me over against the communal function of public facilities. Nothing is more uncomfortable, I believe, than knowing someone might hear your backside giving a morning sermon when it is uncontrollable.

 

As I waited for the elevator, the hotel maid came through a side door and stood next to me. Almost immediately, I felt her eyes on me. I watched the elevator display counting down the floors, and she stared at my profile. It didn't bother me much. After so many trips to China, I understood it. White skin, big nose—most Asians are mesmerized by them. Especially elderly people. They would stare right in your face as if you were a statue in an exhibition or had something on your face. And yes, there's something on my face. A nose. Unluckily for me, it’s the biggest organ I’m endowed with.

 

When the elevator reached the lobby, the maid and I stepped into it, and I promptly pushed the button to my floor. It turned out to be the floor she was going to also.

 

“I go there, too,” she said, enthusiastic to practice her English.

 

“Good,” I said, thinking how fortunate I was that the elevator would not have to stop before my floor and delay my business on the white porcelain throne. In a situation like this, every second counts. By then my stomach had begun to swirl like crazy. The mental image of a washing machine popped into my head, spinning faster and faster. What had I loaded it up with? The maid must have heard my stomach churn because she asked if I'd had breakfast yet. I told her I had and that I was full, which was not true. Well, it was, but not in the way she thought.

 

After that brief exchange, we fell silent. Now it was my turn to examine her in the elevator mirror. She looked young, but for the life of me, I couldn't guess her age. Guessing Chinese people's ages is hard. At least for me it is. It's like trying to estimate a bird’s age: unless the bird is still fluffy, I can't tell how old it is. I'm the same with Asian people. After reaching adulthood, they don't seem to age for thirty years.

 

The maid had a face you would pass on the streets without taking a second glance. It was not in the least ugly, don’t get me wrong. It was just a face sans unique features. However, standing next to her, I felt her emit a kind of energy that made her face glow for some seconds. Her skin became translucent, very appealing, and bright, as if you'd happened to change the light bulb in a room from forty watts to a hundred watts. But when the elevator door opened, her face stopped glowing. It flashed briefly like a shorted-out light bulb before dimming in the luminous intensity of the badly-lit corridor.    

 

I had this feeling that it was only my eyes playing a trick on me. I later asked my wife about the maid who cleaned the rooms on our floor, but she just shrugged nonchalantly and looked at me as if I had asked her thoughts about the mating calls of crickets. She didn't understand why I was so desperate to see the maid again. To her, the maid was invisible. A featureless face. Two dots, a vertical line, and a horizontal line in a circle. That was the maid to her.

 

Regrettably, I saw the maid's face aglow only once. This verified my initial inkling that my eyes had problems and I needed to see an optometrist. When I later bumped into the maid in the hotel, I barely got a smile from her. Even so, she was very nice to both of us. She knew our routine, and when we returned from the gym in the morning, our room would always be cleaned. A couple of times, she even left a handwritten note in Chinese for my wife, wishing a pleasant stay. But the glow, unfortunately, had never returned to her face.

 

On my last day, I wanted to give a small tip to the maid, but she politely refused it. However, to my firm insistence and my wife's encouragement, the maid said thank you in a small voice and accepted the tip.

 

“I'm paid for my job. You don't need to give me money,” she called after me one last time as we got in the elevator and waved goodbye to her.

 

When the elevator began to descend, it suddenly dawned on me why I saw the maid's face aglow. 

 

When I'm in China, I have this sense that I’m in a time capsule. I feel as if all my experiences and feelings that I’ve faced until then have been squeezed into a tiny box and sent back into the past. I'm in the present, physically, but my feelings are not. They're in the past, weak and fragile, seeking my care and attention, and wanting me to join them. They go all the way back to my childhood when I saw the world without contamination. That was the age when people were giants, the hills looked like mountains, the lakes were vast as oceans, and my village was the center of the universe. 

 

As a toddler, I'd seen magic everywhere that others could not see. I didn't know back then that most grown-ups were visually impaired, blind to simple things that were so obvious and understandable to my unsoiled mind.

 

Later in life, I came to understand the reason why this was. In adults, hunger for money and power gobbles up their inner child and destroys their ability to see the world in its pristine state. Colors, gone. Fun, gone. People become blind as moles, and the magic that once was present in their lives vanishes from view. What they can see and use, though, is a kind of twisted sorcery that allows them to gain false powers in a crooked, mixed-up world. 

 

When visiting home, I met people from my village who hadn't lost their sight or changed that much as adults. They stayed in contact with their inner selves well into their adult lives, satisfied with what little they had. In China, I can still see people who remind me of them. The maid was one of them. I could see the magic in her.

Copyright owned jointly by Author and CyberCupid Co., Ltd. Breach of copyright will be prosecuted.
Comments
(Showing 1 to 10 of 10) 1
#2018-04-22 01:29:17 by JohnAbbot @JohnAbbot

Well, what a pleasant surprise to see a new blog post by Imi. Especially an update on where things stand with your marriage, althought this just created more questions in my mind on that topic.  Specifically, what has transpired on the Visa front, as I understood you were in the process of seeking a visa for your wife to immigrate to China, and as I recall you were facing pretty harsh and unreasonable hurdels in that process. Can you tell us where things stand on that issue?

Unlike yourself, I spent my first 6 years living in China in the city of Shenzhen, and I enjoyed the city very much. I miss it and many friends I had there still. I loved the modernity of it, the almost electric buzz in the air of racing progress and entreprenurial competition to succeed more than everyone around you. I grant you that it lacked the history and culture of many other Chinese cities, which have existed for thousands of years, rather than having grown from a fishing village in 1980 to a collosal industrial and commercial center by the year 2000.

I think you may have unintentionally understated the size of Shenzhen. The most population given for 2017 is 12.53 Million, but that refers to Shenzhen proper. If you include the Urban, Industrial and Commercial sprawl that surrounds Shenzhen proper, and might be referred to as greater Shenzhen, estimates are in the area of 30 million people.

I much enjoyed both your description of the initial discussion with your wife on the subject of her having added a few pounds, but mostly because the two of you played the opposite roles of what I normally encounter when it comes to Chinese women conversing with Western men, including my current Chinese wife conversing with me (or with anyone else for that matter).

I find Chinese women to generally be blunt like clubs when it comes to chat. I have heard from many Chinese women, ranging from my wife, previous girlfriends, wives of friends, friends of wife or girlfriends, girls met in a bar, etc., - "Oh, you have a very big nose, don't you?". Of course, when my wife says it now it is always in front of other people and done to remind me that because I have a big nose is not license to get a big head. In other words, "Stop talking like a know it all?', of which I can be guilty sometimes. Although not as often as she is.

But my point is that most Chinese women, and probably to some degree Chinese men, have no filter on what they will say that people might find offensive or rude. I think we Westerners are much more inclined to bite our tongues and not say things that might offend.

Another thing my wife will blurt out the moment she sees an extra pound or two has accumulated on my wasteline, which is always subject to a slight bulge, is "You're getting fat!", in a shocked tone as if I suddenly appear to have swallowed a basketball. And usually in the presence of others. I no longer take it personally because she does it with all our friends and family, male or female. 

So I laughed out loud when I saw the opposite occurring in your situation.

A couple of other questions obviously arise from this blog, being:

1. Who were the Shouting Boy and the Manager who also "made your trip more pleasurable"?

2. What else transpired between you and your wife on this trip?

But I am assuming that there are more blog posts coming to answer those questions, and I am looking forward to reading them.

#2018-04-22 04:26:14 by Imi5922 @Imi5922

Hi, John. There's going to be two more parts to this blog. Your questions will be answered right in the next one, so I don't answer them in here.

The third part that I'd finished a week ago will be something that you might not like to read on CLM/ALM, but I hope my feelings are going to be wrong about that. Don't worry; I havn't become a flat-earth weirdo.  

Basically, you've guessed it well. It is an update on our recent situation and my feelings.

I believe I’m kind of like your wife. My mouth sometimes doesn’t have filter. You had even suggested to me in one of your years-old comments that I should’ve counted to one thousand before replying to lowdown comments.  My wife, however, has a bit more control over her mouth than an average Chinese person. Which is good, I think. We don’t fight. She can make me calm down without opening her mouth.

#2018-04-24 16:40:29 by Barry1 @Barry1

@Imi5922

 

"“No ‘I missed you’? No ‘I’m happy to see you’?” she said as we sat in the backseat. “How long has it been? Nearly a year, I believe."



Hello Imi.

I enjoyed your article, thank you.  But did I get this right?  You hadn't seen your wife for nearly a year? Holy cow, why is this so?  Why leave it for so long? Air tickets are pretty cheap these days, yes?

 

Another sentence you wrote piqued my curiosity.

"Her skin became translucent, very appealing, and bright, as if you'd happened to change the light bulb in a room from forty watts to a hundred watts. But when the elevator door opened, her face stopped glowing. It flashed briefly like a shorted-out light bulb before dimming in the luminous intensity of the badly-lit corridor."

My question is, if the corridor was badly lit, how could it possess a luminous intensity?   (giggle)

 

"In adults, hunger for money and power gobbles up their inner child and destroys their ability to see the world in its pristine state. Colors, gone. Fun, gone. People become blind as moles, and the magic that once was present in their lives vanishes from view. What they can see and use, though, is a kind of twisted sorcery that allows them to gain false powers in a crooked, mixed-up world..........  In China, I can still see people who remind me of them. The maid was one of them. I could see the magic in her."

Beautifully written and oh, so true. You possess an inherent wisdom and underlying perspicacity that percolates through your thoughtful words from time to time that begs even the most hardened and cynical of us to  STOP!  and take some notice.



Well done, Imi.  I look forward to your next two blogs.   (clap)


 

#2018-04-25 09:13:35 by Imi5922 @Imi5922

@Barry1

Nearly a year. I believe that will be answered in the next part.

Luminous intensity. I think everything that emits light has a luminous intensity. At least that's my understanding. Faint light bulbs in the corridor, weak luminous intensity, badly-lit corridor. Perhaps I should have used the word brightness. I was below average student in physics, so if I said something stupid, please just excuse my ignorance.

Thanks for your comment.

#2018-05-02 00:20:04 by anonymous17100 @anonymous17100

I have read before that when you feel an energy attraction like the one you experienced in the elevator it is actually your soul attraction to another. Those kind of "electrical attractions" happen few times in a persons life. Very interesting, did you tell your wife about it, if so how did she react? 

Looking forward to the next entries in this blog series.

#2018-05-03 21:38:35 by Imi5922 @Imi5922

@anonymous17100

Good comment. There is a story to this blog. I wrote this post in February, and a couple of days before I was ready to submit it, my computer had died. I lost everything on my hard drive. Pictures from the last ten years, stories I wrote for the last five years, and basically everything. My computer, when I turned it on, was a black screen. The guy who installed the new hard drive told me I could probably still get something from the old one for $500. I said no to that. 

Anyway, this story was the freshest on my mind so, I rewrote it. It became longer, and the storyline had changed slightly. In the first version, I went in the direction you had remarked in your comment. I knew the hotel maid liked me. It was evident from the first time we met in the lobby and the elevator. On my part, it wasn't liking. It was something . . . deeper? I wasn't attracted to her outside but something on the inside. Probably, this happened to you as well when you saw an ordinary girl who usually was not your type and couldn't explain what made you drawn to her. The hotel maid was a girl like that.

No, I didn't tell this to my wife. She doesn't seem to be the jealous type, but she's a woman. It's better not to disturb the sleeping dragon inside her. So in this second version of the story, I wanted to describe the correlation between my pull to her and my feelings when I'm in China instead of explaining something that had no moral grounds ever to happen and would have sounded conceited.

My wife receives compliments from men weakly, if not daily. She could act on it, but she stays faithful to me. For me, receiving one compliment once a year is nothing to the extent of temptation she has to deal with. If she can stay loyal to me, I can without difficulty do the same for her.

Thanks for the comment.

#2018-05-04 12:39:59 by melcyan @melcyan

@Imi5922

Did you still have the old hard drive?

#2018-05-05 22:19:32 by Imi5922 @Imi5922

@melcyan

Yes, I still have the old hard drive.

#2018-05-06 22:50:56 by melcyan @melcyan

@Imi    The same thing happened to me. Fortunately my nephew builds and repairs computers   He recovered most of my information from the dead hard drive and did not charge me.  I always backup my computer work now. 

Be patient and keep asking around. WikiHow has a section on how to recover a dead hard disk.  I don’t see how the quote can be $500 when he does not know how much work is involved   Maybe the hard drive is ok and only its connection to the computer failed.  

 

#2018-05-09 07:56:21 by Imi5922 @Imi5922

@melcyan

Thanks, Melcyan. I checked WikiHow. It's still expensive because the problem is not the connection. When I have some extra money, I'll have someone to recover some things from it.

Comments
(Showing 1 to 10 of 10) 1
Comment
To respond to another member's comment type @ followed by their name before your comment, like this: @username Then leave a space. Ask Imi a Question : Click here...