Delightful Ning in Farangland (7) - Spring Rolls and Blueberries

Over lunch we hear a painful noise from the basement.

"What is this, my dear?"

The Broken Washing Machine

Down in the cellar, the washing machine creates sounds it is not supposed to create. Is it broken?

“This would be terrible”, I comment to Ning - “what could we do with no functioning washing machine?”

Don't say that to a Good Asian Girl from a hard-working family: “Why? I can wash everything by hand, my dear. No problem!"

Ah, I don’t want to see her handwashing all my shirts. And she'll fly back soon anyway. We climb down to the basement to find out, it is the washing machine, literally screaming for care.

Service is called and arrives only one hour later. Ning and I stand by to watch his efforts. First the guy cleans a few filters, then there is the funny moment when he dives deep into the barrel (it’s a front loader), as if he wants to disappear somewhere. His whole upper body is inside the drum, only his backside looks out. Then he re-emerges with a red head, turns a few screws, removes the front panel, dives in again, his backside stuck out looks funny again, he comes back out and -  nothing is funny any more.

The service guy comes back with two twisted metal frames. I’ve never seen a structure like that, but they do look like parts from a torn bra.

These metal things clearly caused the painful noise. They look like bra parts. Metal frames to fortify bras for a very impressive bust. They are clearly not Ning’s size. So HOW did they get into my machine?

"These look like bra parts", Ning observes - "but not from me".

Brusquely she turns around and walks back up.

"Some swimming suits have these ", comments the handyman. He didn't even notice Ning's upset. He test-starts the machine, which now doesn't produce any more noise, the problem is obviously solved, so he says goodbye. Everything fine one might think, but not for me - I have a fuming lady upstairs. Now she can wash hourly at 30, 40, 50, 60 and 90 degrees, with or without prewash programme, but she might as well ponder early departure or even worse.

At first I have no idea why these bra parts materialized in the machine. Really not! Then, slowly, I get a clue.

We meet on the stairs. Seeing me, she turns around and wants to dash off.

"Ning!"

Her face is cold and questioning.

"You wonder about this bra?"

A small nod.

"The service guy said this can be from a *swimsuit*, too."

Oh, not a good argument? Her face remains cold and questioning.

"You remember last winter I when I stayed in Thailand end finally we met? The neighbors had my key, and later they told me they had used my washing machine when theirs was broken for a week."

Her face remains very very sceptical. But I am not even lying here.

"You know the neighbor lady, very strong here..." - I mimic buckets at my chest - "I guess these metal pieces are from her bra or swimming dress?”

This must pacify her. I know she does not see our neighboress as a threat to my assumed monogamy.

Her faces switches in thinking-mode. "But WHY do we have this problem NOW?? And not right after last winter?"

"How can I know? How can I prove something?" Now I even get a bit upset and angry. I crank up the voice. Somehow I feel more convincive in higher pitch: "These machines turn around all the time, 1200 times per minute in spin cycle, then some day the problem comes up."

Her face is still cold.

"Ning...."

She softens slightly.

"This *must* be from the neighbor lady, what else can it be?"

Her face gets hard again.

She wants to turn away again. She wants to fume more.

But I can’t have a dragon in the house. I need a peaceful environment.

I softly touch her shoulder and move her towards me. She wants to reject me, she wants to move away, but I keep a firm grip.

I caress her shoulder. She wants to slide off, but I don’t let her go.

“Ning!”

She wants to move away, but I keep her with sheer physical force. Tiny girl.

Her resistance weakens. What can she do anyway.

“Ning! What can I do that you believe me?"

“Oh, everything ok, ok, ok, of course I believe you.” She relaxes and hugs me. She remains extra-mild for some days.

Springrolls and Blueberries

A daywalk in untouched nature. Actually, the term "daywalk" means for us: We walk one hour or so. Then we need several hours to take pictures, food, drink and general rest.

Until noon we have only made a few miles. But with our slow pace we can enjoy the lovely countryside even deeper. For our luncheon in the backwoods, Ning has prepared fried spring rolls in my kitchen. (She claims our local smallish Asia store sells the best spring rolls papers available anywhere in Asia.) On the grass, she also spreads joghurt, apples, bananas, musli bars, even a box of salad with sauce by the side. Tissues, spoons, forks, a thermos with tea and a water bottle. Once more, Ning did her food job gloriously.

But Hans failed: I forgot to bring a picnic mat, and the ground is just slightly too wet to sit down right on the grass.

"But you have the newspaper in your bag", Ning says with a relieved smile: "We can sit on that."

"Ah, dear, I haven't read that paper yet."

She does not even hear my words. Busily she looks around for the most even ground to place the newspaper. There is no way in the world to tell her that newspapers are for reading, not for sitting or wrapping fish.

Quickly I flick through the paper. Lots of good, interesting stories... (With Ning in the house, I read much less then when alone, because I don't want to neglect her and she has so little own things to do, in her isolation she even started to fold all my slips and socks one morning.) I guess I have to make a sacrifice, give a part of the paper for seating. Politics? No, I definitely won't give up Politics for a picnic mat. Science and Arts must stay with me, too. But ok, here goes: Ning may sit on the Business section, and I'll grace the Local News with my backside.

It is one more wonderful outdoor lunch with Ning, actually this is something like a beloved ritual for both of us. When sitting there munching with Ning under the clouds, usually silent but super-content, I feel a very deep understanding. It’s Ning, Ning, Ning on my mind.

Yes, our delightful outdoor dinners are a “relationship routine”, but then it’s so peaceful and wonderful. On occasions like this, one is really tempted to think “I want get old with her by my side”.

Oh really?

Hans, wake up! Could I give up the jolly winters on my SE Asian playgrounds; the summers in Old Europe with no less fun; all for an exclusive contract with little Ning from some sticky SE Asian hinterlands?

One thing is clear: I can’t import Ning for another time on a tourist visa. It’s not what a Good Asian Girl is supposed to do. Her family was not amused when she traveled to Europe on just a holiday trip to see a single man, without any marriage plans on the horizon. Just imagine what the neighbors may talk! And while Ning stood through all offences from her family, and through all dull questions at the visa interview and at the National Border Police, and never demanded any commitment from me - I sense she needs a decision too, a stable situation. She is too good to fall for a player. I want her to have that much self-esteem.

So now I have sacrificed my beloved newspaper for her, at least the most boring parts. Is she worth it to sacrifice more?  Who knows what she sacrificed for me so far.

After feast, thoughts and some relaxing arm in arm, we decide to try a few more miles on our feet. Upon getting up, the Business and Local sections, or floor mats, look crumpled, but not hopeless. I neatly fold them, under Ning's slightly disdainful looks, and keep them for later inspection. For once I fold something more carefully than she does. (Because it has letters on it.)

We walk on to find a field full of ripe blueberries. Actually, Ning finds it, I didn't notice the fruits. Ning has never seen blueberries, but before thinking twice she has collected a pound and eaten half of that. "Ui, very delicious my dear!!" My bronze fruit junkie does not even ask if those unknown fruits are edible.

There is no stopping her. "My dear - ok for you if I pick a few berries?!?! You can wait or you angry me?!?"

"Oh, please, collect berries as long as you like."

Ning descends onto the blueberry field with a serious, terminator-like face. For a while I enjoy snapping her, because for once she does not look embarrassed or forced-photofriendly at the camera, but she remains fully concentrated on her responsible job.

Periodically Ning returns to offer me fruit.

"Ning, I like the fruit, but please *you* eat most of it, because you collected it. I am too lazy to pick the berries, so please YOU enjoy them."

A very surprised look: "NO, NO!!! I don't like those fruits if you don't share with me!"

"Ah, you pick them, please YOU enjoy them!"

"NO!!! Please you share, I cannot enjoy them alone." I am fed another handful, and off she wanders to her next prey.

I fish for the rumpled paper, spread Business and Local News over the ground again and start reading Politics. Ning reappears, and I am asked to eat the last two springrolls; because then we can use the plastic food box for the berries. I duly free us of the two springrolls. The box is thoroughly cleaned, then stuffed with a clean plastic bag, then the berries go inside.

I return to my newspaper. It is a warm summer day, birds are chirping, grashoppers are harping, I sit there in the shadow with a good newspaper in the quiet countryside while my lovely Asian lady busily collects pound after pound of delicious blueberries around me. Any worries in this world? (Only one day later I learn that we might contract echinococcosis from our blueberry orgy.)

I've made it to the Mixed Desasters page before Ning reemerges from the bushes: "My dear - you not bored when I collect fruit long time?"

"Oh no, Ning, not at all. I know that you have something important to do. And so, I can enjoy my newspaper even more. This time while I read, I don't feel I neglect you, because for once you are busy with your own things."

From her Huh?-look I can't say if she didn't understand the vocabulary or the meaning. But we don't look deeper into this topic, because for once we are both together and both happy doing something side by side, but independently. And guess what? Ning is so busy, I can change the floor mat from Business to the now thoroughly studied Politics and read the crinkled Business and Local News too.

My intuitive girl only tires after I have happily finished the whole newspaper. We decide to hike back to the car.

Back home I will skim my cooking books for blueberry cakes and desserts.

"You know what my dear", say Ning: "These fruits will be MOST delicious with chili salt!"