KTV. Really?

19^th Jan – KTV

Satisfied with my somewhat successful Shanghai day, last night I retired to bed with a slightly smug grin. I had just ordered my week’s shop online; purchased a very pretty, sturdy bike to cycle to work on (classy, cool and functional WITH gears) and I’d treated myself to a hot-stone massage. Things here in Shanghai have obviously started well. It’s both frightening and alien to feel secure and uninhibited at work; the boxing gloves have remained securely packed away and while I may be quick to jump, as yet I have no one to ‘fight’.

I was not so sure, so cocky, so confident, however, when I was being led down a dimly lit rabbit warren tunnel of KTV on Saturday night. Little chambers, resembling bulbous alien birthing pods from a cheap set science fiction movie, contained people straining at a screen, sounds thankfully muffled by dubiously blackened glass,  being delivered cocktails of their choice by busy trolley wielding waiters. I was at Chinese Karaoke! It wasn’t my choice. I tried pulling the ‘I’m not singing because I am new and not sure of myself yet’ card but it wasn’t until I was standing, dancing and singing into the 1980s foam topped microphone that I realised my situation. A sudden silent pause in time allowed me to view myself, frozen mid-song, hip higher on the left where my dance moves incorporated a timely, smooth hip swing and my new colleagues grinning, laughing (with me, not at me. I think.) looked impressed. Bon Jovi in a stance very similar to mine, gripped his microphone; similarly mid hip swing, almost encouraging me to carry on before I deliberated, took stock and decided to simply proceed. While I’ll not deny that there was something quite uncomfortable about the almost seedy fluorescent pink marshmallow building, where who knows what goes on behind frosted windows, I surprised myself by having good time.
I haven’t been in touch much because, ironically, the only place my internet functions is at work. It’s part China, part me being a stupid arse when it comes to all things technological. Still, please don’t think I’ve forgotten you because I haven’t, I couldn’t and I wouldn’t want to. Rest assured that I am safe, happy and being looked after by everyone. My manager told me to ‘f*ck off’ the other day which made me smile – anyone that knows Steve will understand, he’s clearly pleased to be working with me again. I think he was just peeved that he wasn’t invited to sing.

Anon.