17 Whats happiness? Argentine?

I am back in my House at the lLke. Yes, I know I owe myself a detailed description of my stay in Beijng from may 21 up to june 5 but life is so full of impressions. So I will paint them not day by day but in little fragments, in vignets that I associate with my daily experiences of wherever I am. Thats my life I am a keen observer sometimes, but every photograph I make of a particular part of the world always is associated with the so called non-existent or past.
Last night I had a very good sleep. This fact normally does not deserve headlines, but now, at this particular moment it does. Because I did not sleep that good, neither in Beijijng nor here. In Beijing I often could not get the sleep, most of the times for no good reasons. I could blame the
frogconcerts, or that mosquito. But I know this is not the real reason. Normally Morpheus kills
those intruders. But not that time in B.
I once remarked: happiness is not in the brain, but I of course we are not only governed by the feelingparts of the brain, but also by the Cortex. And I guess this Big Thinker that contains
the hidden code of law that governs and governed my life is in a state of transition at the cost
of exhaustion. And ironically only the finding of the right words enlightens this morbid state.
I am talking of course about inefficiency, i.e the loss of energy, and not of ineffectiveness because my days in Beijing were good and succesful and full of new actions. And beautiful moments. For instance the day we spent on the opening of our office in SOHO Beijing. Soon you are able to view a film on it on this Blog. I met new friends. I saw candidates for the positions in the office. I found a publisher for the books of Thema we want to publish in Chinese.
And I drew the line whereever necessary.
Yesterday I participated in a most boring pokergame, stretching and stretching untill I ended my part by taking a too big risk and losing my treasure in 3 seconds. I didnot care. The
host was that nice woman, daughter of a friend. Other friends too, one of them a estate agent who won twice. No problem: brokers always do.
I took a J Daniels and another one. My host forbade me more drinks because I had to drive home in my new Italian car and she wanted me to arrive safely.
It was 02.oo in the morning and my driving style was that of a staggering horse. Suddenly
an VW Golf hooted.
From an olive coloured face, white teeth . A maroccon guy I guessed. Slowly driving alongside
he opened his window. I did the same.
"Hé, man ,"he said,' Are uou drunk?'
"No, no."
"Then you are tired? I can see it."
"Yes, yes."
"Be carefull. A hundred meters further, the police is on the wait.'
I showed him my biggest smile. Borded him again at a traffic light. He pointed at the M I own now for a couple of days.
"Beautiful car."
Yes, I have to admit. But I said.
"I saved for it all my life."
Unnecessary remark: no trace of jealousy, no need for comfort.
"Yes,'he said,'saving is important. Take care." And off he went, reaching the crossroads far a
head of me.
Love is in the air.

This morning start gray and sticky and I started with a coffee at Heineke. I parked the M in
the back and read the paper. The last time I was here I enjoyed the news of Bokito. I couldnt find a follow up. The room was dominated by a group of sturdy dutchmen dissuccing Dutch Affairs. No word about the Yellow Danger. I didnt amaze me. The rapeflowers so beautiful and threatening are out. The grasses took over. And the Poppy's .
After my second cyo I started to read the instruction on the retrieval system of the car. This instrumnet is controlled by GPS and after someone steals the car, the limousine can be traced on the spot.
Henny the owner, in the sailing game also, shook my hand.
"Whats is that?'
I explained.
He started laughing, pressing my shoulder.
"Thats good,"he said,"now they can find you."
He is that small guy who's face looks closed and tightlipped. You can get scared. Wrong. He is a lamb in a wolfe's skin.
In the supermarket I bought my food. An experiment: Pakzoi. Happily enough a lady wanted to inform me, that I have to cook it, or buirn it in a wok. And I bought three pieces of chicory. And with some help from a newly acquired friend I learned to pack, weigh it my self and put
a pricetab on it. It is known that the last emperor of China could not even blow his own nose. had to learn that in a yearlong reeducation. And he seemed to be happy with that learning process. I can imagine.
I stopped my car along the road and I gathered a poppy, just one. How long ago I had one in my hand> I cant remember. The stem a spindle-leg. Needs waxing. The oily red, little bit lines as if there are veins in the flowerleafs. Inside hidden like a treasure a circle of tender pink and old blue spurs.
The landscape is full of them now. A rich country, Holland.