"Mt. HuaShan, China, October of 1994. Cold, windy, foggy, raining, past midnight, unable to sleep, again.
Headed to the karaoke bar of my hotel, the worse of the two on top of Mt. HuaShan, and ordered a coffee, black, not knowing really what to expect of the Xiaojie's and Fuwuyuan's response to my western request, particularly at such late hour.
Without batting an eye, they prepared my coffee immediately and quickly as if they had been making and drinking coffee everyday of their lives. Not sure, though, why the instant coffee they served required two people to make it. Still, being my first trip to China and feeling rather far from civilization, instant coffee never tasted so good.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, they invited me to sing a few Chinese love songs. I respectfully declined, citing my inability to carry a tune, particularly a Chinese one. They didn't mind, and proceeded to sing for me. I enjoyed my coffee and their singing for a spell or two longer and then left the karaoke bar to wander the halls and grounds of Mt. HuaShan's poorer hotel, dreaming of an angel from Shanghai who sung so beautifully the evening before."
