June 16th 1984

Today followed a by now all too familiar pattern – I was sick again, + spent almost the entire day in bed, my only exercise being the regular walk down the stairs + across the building site which serves as the hotel’s front yard to the toilet.  China has, I understand, more public toilets per head of population than any other country in the world, but they are disgusting affairs, + the one in the hotel was no exception.  They are merely holes cut into a concrete floor, with half-partitions between each “cubicle”, + a concrete chute leading down to an open cess-pit below.  No flush, not even a bucket of water to throw down, so the toilets + chutes soon get into a foul state, + the stench is indescribable.  It certainly doesn’t encourage one to dawdle, but amazingly, some locals do seem to linger, crouching + smoking a cigarette – I’m surprised the methane doesn’t catch light.  The places are cleaned out regularly, the one in the hotel every morning, tho’ not by any elaborate means.  The cleaner dips an implement rather like a ladle with a long handle down one of the chutes, + scoops out a spoonful of the mixture (+ a pretty runny mixture it is too) then transfer this into a slightly larger bucket, + when this in is full, it is transferred to a slightly larger bucket, + when this in turn is full, it is carried out with a brother on a yoke, + tipped carefully into an empty oil drum on a trolley.  In all, a desperately smelly + unpleasant business, one which I had plenty of time to observe, being a regular visitor from about 5 o’clock on.  I think the guy must have got rather annoyed with me, since I was there so often to hamper his efforts.  Val tells me the job is not only regarded as prestigious but is also very highly-paid, in Chinese terms.  I must say I wouldn’t so the job for all the tea in China, + to undertake it as they do, with no masks, no protective clothing of any kind, seems positively suicidal.

So, my day was dull.  One of the only consolations was that it was a foul day, grey + rainy, so that altho’ my trips to the toilet were made even more uncomfortable, my day in bed didn’t mean I was missing very much.  Jacob too spent much of the day in bed, with a different sort of sickness;  Val + Mike wandered in + out, spending some time strolling round town, but more sitting in the room, reading.  Val was, as usual, an attentive + considerate nurse, providing me with cups of hot milk.  She would have brought me more, but unlike Nepal, the scene of my last sickness, China is singularly lacking in goodies liable to tempt an invalid.  Or, indeed, anyone else.  It was fortunate that last night Dave had lent me a book – “High Window” by Raymond Chandler.  Good racy stuff, perfect invalid material, + a very welcome change from the Hesse I am reading.  Both Jacob + I finished it today.

Val + Mike ate their evening meal with Dave + Laraine; by the time they returned I was sick + tired of my bed, so dragged myself up to go to their room to see their slides.  They certainly had some marvellous ones, + I felt quite envious, except that it didn’t remove my prejudice against slides.  It rather re-inforced it, if anything – tho’ the pictures themselves were marvellous, the experience of having to look at each + every picture, determined at least in part by someone else’s interest span, was not one I found comfortable.

The amount of time I have to give over to writing about sickness is almost as painful as enduring it – distinctly tedious (as I’m sure you agree!!) Good to encounter amenable company – Dave and Laraine have remained goods friends – we are seeing them for lunch today!