I feel like I live in Little Italy

Every now and then I hear this sound. Maybe it is someone practicing trumpet. Maybe it is someone practicing trombone, or tuba. Who knows? All I know, is it really makes this place seem like a neighborhood. Makes it seem really friendly and homey. This morning, from just outside my window, I heard some old man berating some other guy for throwing a cigarette butt on the ground. Again, it makes it feel like a real neighborhood. This neighborhood, after all, home to several hundred people. And I am sure there are over one thousand within the gates of the complex. The gates which, as convenience would have it, have a single piece of metal missing a few feet to the side, allowing for easy access, regardless of what time it is. I like that. Why does the sound of some unknown brass instrument make me feel like I am in Little Italy (for brass it is, no woodwind has that much power)? And why does the concept of a friendly, livable neighborhood immediately bring Little Italy to mind? I have never even been to Little Italy. The closest I have been to little Italy is exchanging 'chiao's with Federicco, an Italian here in Beijing who Juggles (and juggles well, I might add). It certainly makes me miss that tiny Italian restaurant in Duluth though. There are many Italian restaurants here in Beijing, but none even come close to the scent, the feel, the atmosphere of authenticity that imbued that place. I'd like to eat there again when I am back in Duluth.

In other news, I am learning Spanish. I had my first class yesterday, I skipped all of class today, and I plan to be a very good student from now on. I am the only foreigner in the class (aside from the teacher, who I assume is Latin American from her accent), and I think I actually have a big advantage over many of the Chinese students. This is just because I grew up with a small amount of Spanish vocabulary and pronunciation in my environment (having a dad that majored in Spanish probably helped a little bit), so I already know the numbers 1-10, how to say hello and goodbye, and I can roll my tongue like there's no tomorrow. Makes the Spanish sounds is a lot easier for me than for the Chinese students. But with our four hours of class each day I imagine any gap there is starting should be gone pretty quick. Actually, I had to miss two hours of the first day of class so that I could see Jamie to the airport. He left the country yesterday afternoon (plane took off at 4:10), so I left class early to meet him one last time before fall quarter at Kalamazoo. It made me a bit sad to see him off. I didn't cry, but my eyes got a little wet as I watched him show his ticket and passport to the security guard, and walk away, becoming smaller and smaller against the background of imposing airport architecture. That evening I actually got sicker and sicker, until Lili finally pumped me full of Chinese medicine and made me eat something. Currently, I am feeling the most healthy I have felt in the past week. However, this morning I was unable to go to Spanish class at all. This is because I had to work. I had scheduled the work Monday afternoon, but the Cetvantes Institute didn't tell me that the class was starting on Tuesday until Monday evening. By then it was too late to rearrange my work schedule (believe me: I tried). But starting tomorrow morning 9:30am I am going to go to class for four hours every weekday, and study in the afternoons and evenings. I obviously won't be fluent after 60 hours of class, or even conversational, but I am excited to be able to get a basic education in the Spanish language.