7 Broken eggs 26 april 2007-2

"How would the aceobat herself react to the story? Did she read it?"
This afternoon I inserted that 2800 word story of Li Xiao in my Blog. Checked e-mail. Interesting messages. The formal registration of SchoutenChina has been confirmed. Within 4 months. The Chinese authorities are not slower than the Dutch ones. Furthermore the first two Chinese persons accepted our offer for a job. The Beijingoffice now formally is staffed now.
I asked Dong Yan, one of the freshly hired managers: How would the Acrobat appreciate the tale of Li Xiao? But she did not reply. probably wanting to protect her friend.
The question stayed stuck in my mind for a while- until the traffic congestion I hit upon on my way to the House, required my attention. In the slow traffic I managed to turn down the bonnet of my cabrio. 28 degrees, sun is blowing. Put on the radio and on high volume I sang along with the first part of Brahms Violin Converto, Radio 4 surprised me with.
So I sang. tried at least and that as loud as possible, clamping my fists and jumping on my seat. Must have been a funny sight. I enjoyed it. felt relief.
On the road near the lake, I remembered sailing with Tonio, in regattas, on our racingboat called Pampus and instantly the nice talk got in my mind we earlier today had together while drinking tea on the terrace of the Tolerance (Verdraagzaamheid).
We nicely relaxed in the shadow of Bavariaparasols and when the time was there, i said to him:
"Tonio, I made a discovery some days ago: Nobody is more important than me, myself."
Tonio looked at me disbevelievingly. Started a story, once told to him by Cathy Li, the proud manager of E-soon/ Vanad in Shanghai. An elegant and competent lady. One of the pearls of modern China.
"You remarked, Tonio, that Chinese people are so gentle, so considerate. And yes they can be. And of course you can find here also bad people. very bad people. On the other hand. there are men and women at the other side of the scale. Take that old villagewoman going every day to the market. There she buys the eggs for her family. While buying egges you have to be careful because if you are not, at home you may find the eggs the vendor sold, are broken. It easily happens. This poor gentle lady knew this of course. And so the pure soul searched every day in the heaps of eggs and selected the already broken ones.
She would say: "I do that because it is so hard on the other people. when they arrive at home and see their eggs are broken. Of course the eggs I buy sometimes already are bad. No problem. I just throw them away."
Tonio looked away. reached behind his chair and produced a packet of flower tea , nicely wrapped. A present from Han, professor at Remnin University, the gentleman who performed for Schouten China the reasearch on training needs of Chinese men and women.
"Thank you, Tonio," I said,"give Han my best wishes. But was there any hidden message in that story you told me a couple of minutes ago?"
He laughed. The terrace was full of people, enjoying the shadow, admiring the lazily flowing river. I laughed too. We both together laughed our head of, not caring( bad bad) for the sleepy eyed people around who suddenly seemed fully awake.
Of course I knew Tonio's anwer far before he needed to give it to me. "Jan, silly billy, you overplayed your hand. You bougth too many broken eggs. Will you continue?"
"No,"i said to myself.

And now , at home in my House on the Lake, watching the gray and bumpy water- and the yellowy-red billiance of the sun drowning in the haze at the horizon I realized I had an other topic that I easily could have fed into my converstation with Tonio- a statement crystallized after many Argentine days.
That every creature needs to be its own powercentre, its own fountain of energy that gives birth to projects that in theirselves give the sufficient satisfaction- the necessary oath the litlle horse called Dayang easily can trot on. And that how much you long for caresses, skin, care and tenderness- this explosive ensemble called love must be nothing more and less than a desirable but additional asset.
Rewording this statement on the couch of my small living room I felt extremely well. Like a couple of days ago when I for the first time and so clarly could formulate my point of view, so clumsily hidden below the mud of tough work and bad "eggbuying habits".
Some questions came up. What did I do the last 20 years, the last years especially? What do I learn from it? Ans what has all this to do with a Blog?
Jennifer mailed me the last question.
"Is it a blog? It reads like a novel? But when I read one, I easily can turn on the last page. Does this have an end?"
This is the story of a journey. I jumped in at media res. It has a beginning of course- a backstory I will fill in later. Probably I make an other Chinese story out of it, dont know yet. But does it have an end? Sure it will have an end. If stories ever end.
But first I will describe my report on the very dangerous invasion that floods Holland. Because I promised. Because my research brought me closer to Argentinia.