Sangfroid
Yesterday I went to the town hall. I filled out the forms and joined the queue where I started the Sudoku puzzle in the Times. (I have become hooked on them, despite the fact that the part of my brain which causes me to return from a trip upstairs to collect the car keys with a flap jack and no keys, adds to my failure rate).
Next I chat to someone about where in China I went last year. When (in June) they learnt that I‘d been there and particularly that I’d been on a boat trip, they told me not to bother showing up for six months; they were quite nice about it. I went into the next room and waited to hear my name. When called, I went over to the other side of the room and lay down next to a very attractive Eastern European girl. The podgy, friendly bloke in his blue uniform seemed, not surprisingly, seemed a little reluctant to turn his attention from the clear skinned girl to me. More questions then; “you will now feel a sharp scratch”. About a pint of blood lighter I sat up on the bed, I was the only person in the room now, the staff had all gone off on their break.
I forewent the biscuit and tea, (I had had a Bounty before-hand) and left the bag of my bodily fluids to be transported to the National Blood Bank in Tooting last night. Apparently most blood is separated into a number of components to be made into various products. Where will my chi end up? I like to think it will be of some good. I wish it well. I have type B negative which 1% of the UK population has (but 20% of the Japanese have). I think they like O negative best because anyone can receive it. The Hopi Indians who live in the Mohave Dessert in Arizona have something in their blood only found in the blood of Japanese. Their folklore says that they travelled the world thousands of years ago before choosing to settle in what must be one of the most challenging places to live on the planet.
I am interested in the Hopi and when in Arizona a while ago, decided to go to see where they lived. My expectation was that we would find a fairly touristy place. Consequently we took a picnic. We found what I would describe as a run-down council estate in the desert. We are talking basic. Many of them have refused to be wired up to the electricity and telecommunications networks. There are a number of villages in the area. The one we arrived at was on the Second Mesa (a plateau in the desert). There was a shop, the lady was nice, she seemed to be aware that we were expecting something different. She suggested that if we followed the noise of the drums we would arrive at the local school where there was some kind of celebration going on in the car park. Very big energy there indeed, there were no other white people; kids of all ages in bright costumes dancing around in front of their proud families.
At the third Mesa we found the village of Old Oraibi, some say the oldest inhabited community in the United States. If anything it was even more bleak than the Second Mesa. There was another little shop. I bought a silver pendant with the image of the Ancient One on it. He looks like a space man.
Despite the harshness of the environment, there was something very powerful and attractive about the simplicity of the place.