Chapter 115

My alarm rang at 6:30, I’d have gladly stayed in bed for several more hours but it was time to go. I loaded my heavy backpack full of beer and jars of olives and pesto on the front rack of a rent-a-bike, and rode the relatively short distance (for such a gigantic spread-out city) to the train station. One can of beer fell on the asphalt and the nectar was spraying through a tiny hole, I didn’t want it to go to waste so I opened the can, took a few gulps and poured the rest in a water bottle I just emptied on the sidewalk. Just those few sips were enough to make me a bit buzzed, with my sleep deprivation and empty stomach.

I went through security, made it to the gate, and sat in a massage chair for 20 minutes. I aggressively went through practice tests, getting ready for the driving exam, hopefully my last hurdle before getting that goddamn license. During the one-hour train ride and the taxi trip to the test center, I was glued to my phone, answering those mock tests.

I got to the counter, passing the room with hundreds of poor souls waiting for the practical, and they asked me if I want to do the test in English or in Chinese.

“SAY WHAT?! IT WAS AN OPTION THE WHOLE TIME?!?!?!?!?!?! BUT THOSE INBRED SHIT-SHOVELING FUCKTARDS AT THE DRIVING SCHOOL TOLD ME THE ENGLISH TEST WAS DISCONTINUED!!!”

...is obviously not what I said out loud to the clerk. I hesitated... I studied for the test in Chinese, but what if I bite more than I can chew? Should I just put my ego aside, to maximize my chance of getting it the fuck over with? I told her I’ll do it in Chinese, and if I fail, for the second try I’ll switch.

They led me to the same room I did the first theoretical exam in December, and I sat at the computer. First try: 44/50, barely under the 45/50 passing grade. Motherfucker!!! I had to go back to the counter, and decided, perhaps foolishly, to try in Chinese again.

I got the first 13 questions right, but then had three wrong answers almost in a row. I was despairing at that point, but had no choice but to go forward. Then, blunder of all blunders, I clicked B by mistake on a question where I knew, with absolute certainty, C was the answer. The error margin was now extremely narrow, especially as the last 10 questions have more than one correct answer and I must get them all.

And I won!!! 45/50 bitches!!!!!

I thought I’d have to wait a few days or weeks and go to some other joyless government building, but they printed my driver’s license right here and there. Well, after a few minutes, as I broke their computer with my passport number and my uncommon name with seven Chinese characters as opposed to the usual two or three. Eventually they just called another guy, then another, and then another, and there was the rather too familiar huddle of clerks bunched up around the computer trying to figure out the problem. Eventually one guy found how to change the input from Chinese ID card to passport number, and how to enlarge the box so my name would fit in there, and they handed me my prize. I felt elated as I walked out of that place and went home.

The dog welcomed me, but the girlfriend was at work. In fact, though it was Sunday, it was a workday all across China to make up for the 5-day weekend coming up, which is why the driving testing center was open. I had the day off, and made it home at barely 10 o’clock.

I quickly fired up the UFC, right in time for the triple championship header to begin. Former KGB assassin and flyweight champion Valentina Shevchenko is head, shoulders, torso and hips above the rest of her division, which makes it a bit stale, like can be the case with very dominant champs. Fans were excited at the prospect of Jessica Fucking Andrade moving up from strawweight to challenge Shev, as Andrade has this ridiculous farm girl (pharm girl?!) strength and devastating Brazilian lesbian one-punch KO power that is very rare in the women’s divisions and can turn a fight on its head in a second. Well, she got wrecked, at no moment did she even look to be in the fight, getting pieced up at range and repeatedly taken down. Shevchenko is too good, and only getting better, seems like the only fight that makes sense is a third contest with Amanda Nunes, who’s also ran out of contenders.

Zhang Weili got head kicked to oblivion by Rose Namajunas, losing her belt. Damn it. All this talk about “the Chinese market” is dumb and doesn’t take into account that almost nobody follows MMA in China, but for sure having a reigning champion increased the chance of having an event held here (hopefully in Shanghai!) in the near future. Weili got interviewed right after the fight though she was clearly concussed and in a state of disbelief, and got booed by the retarded and probably racist fans in the audience, not a very good look. Also, while we’re at it, I don't know why they can't find Chinese translators who, y'know, speak English and not broken-ass Chinglursh. The guy who did the cards in Shanghai and Beijing (maybe Shenzhen too, forgot) was good and also had a booming voice but some of the interpretors they had outside China were atrocious. Special mention to that white girl on the New Zealand who must have been on her second semester of Chinese in university.

Then it was the main event, and the UFC brass and commentators tried as hard as they can to hype it and convince us that Jorge Masvidal is not just an upstarted journeyman who has no reasons to be fighting for the title other than for a money grab and a quick easy win by the champ. Usman won easily to the surprise of no one with more than five brain cells, but what was surprising was how he did it, with a Mortal Kombat-style “Finish Him!!!” straight right that sent a big cloud of mist through the air. The common wisdom was that he would rely on his wrestling more, Kamaru Usman is scary good, and seemingly getting better and better.

There was a pack of ground beef thawing in the sink, I cooked it in the pan with hot peppers and larb seasoning I bought in Thailand, and made burritos with copious amounts of sour cream, and poured myself a big mug of beer. My spirits were quite high, once in a while I’d just grab my new driver’s license and rub it gently. The bane of my existence is gone off my shoulders. I also got an e-mail from my friend whom I helped with a Chinese translation, with good feedback. Things are good.

I looked for music to listen to, and plunged into the discography of a band called Knut, with their mix of hardcore, sludge and technical bits. Not very original was my impression, now that I’m a bit more familiar with that genre, but enjoyable nonetheless as background music while I caught up on my diary. Then I took the dog out, we went to see his friend Doudou, tied up in front on his owner’s shop, and I brought both of them to the park. Then I went home, played a bit of GTA V until I got gunned down by a biker after stealing a Harley-Davidson and killing his pal with my sawed-off shotgun, then I napped for two hours.

I put on more Top 500 music, entry number 320 being a rockabilly band named X. It was very unmemorable. The girlfriend came in from work, we hung out for a bit talking about our respective weekends, and watched cooking videos together. Then I watched a Bojack Horseman episode and went to bed.