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Rusty Knives – From Furio’s Old Diaries
Disclaimer: This history is part of a sea of personal reflections that I collected during my first year in China. Despite having changed the names of all people mentioned, the facts – as improbable as they might seem – all really happened.
Spoiler Alert: This series is extremely explicit and contains a high level of sarcasm. If, for some reason, you might take offense, I would then recommend the Junior Woodchucks Guidebook : )
Index: Click here to read all stories from the “Old Diaries” in chronological order.
“I’ve killed a hell of a lot of people to get to this point,” Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.
Immediately after disembarking at the airport in Hangzhou, the city of Marco Polo, I’m attacked by the usual flotilla of abusive taxi drivers that look at me hopefully while yelling out:
“Taxi, taxi.”
With the grossed out air of someone who has spent the day waiting for a flight that didn’t want to take off, I head straight for the official taxi line and get into the first free car. I am greeted by a smiling young man that after verifying my nationality, repeatedly offers me a Lucky Strike while asking me how Baggio and Del Piero are doing.
“Bu zhidao,” I respond that I don’t know. I could’ve done worse; these days when I admit to being Italian they smile maliciously and begin discussing bunga bunga.
I’m in the city for work, and then I call Rita – a student I had met months before in Beijing – to ask her to be my guide. Considering how we left things off I was expecting an enthusiastic reaction, instead she responds coldly:
“Tonight I find myself at CoCo, Wen San Road.”
I show up at CoCo at almost midnight. I call Rita, who meets me at the entrance of the club. I remembered a timid university student reading a romance novel in a café, instead I find a panther in a see-through shirt, miniskirt, high heels and heavy makeup. A bigger transformation than Olivia Newton John in Grease.
CoCo, the white devil cave in Hangzhou, is a smelly room with a low ceiling, full of drunken Spaniards who live in a revival of Erasmus, Chinese that show off improbable ridges and whores with red wigs. I follow Rita to the coatroom, where her friends are getting back their vests.
“What happened?” I ask her.
“We’re going, CoCo has become too boring,” her bodyguard responds, whom we will call Rizzo. I look at Rita and I tell her:
“I’m staying here, what about you?”
“I’m with you.”
“Bu shi, you’re coming with us,” Rizzo reproves her. But after 20 minutes of bargaining the Party Pooper softens a little:
“We’re going to G+, but at three we’ll come back for Rita. Don’t bring her to a hotel, ok?”
“Yes Boss,” I respond while I struggle to take her seriously. As soon as her friends leave us alone Rita tries to kiss me, probably as a result of the Mojito fumes.
Source: http://www.saporedicina.com/english/rusty-knives/
