China
Self Portrait from August 2011, Amdo/Kham Tibet
The moment, I knew, it was going to be a very long and cold winter. Watching snow flurries fall to the ground during the first week of August, as we ride from the Tibetans we had spent the night with.
Sunrise near Amnematchen (Amdo/Kham Tibet). One of the most beautiful mornings so far.
The evening before, sleeping with the nomads, we had been shoved in a corner together. I was in the worst pain of my life from my stomach problems and got no sleep, Brandon told me he didn’t sleep at all either.
When getting ready for bed, the Tibetan girl and I were giggling with each other for about an hour. There was a language barrier and we would just communicate with laughter and giggles. We were watching each other, curious of the other. One of us would do something, and catch the eyes of the other, and we would both burst out in laughter. Old cranky pants that I was sharing my “personal space” with was probably confirming in his head that I’d lost my mind.
That girl was absolutely beautiful and I have about 3 dozen photos of her. I can still hear her laughter and giggles, while adding a white powder/flour to her traditional Tibetan hat. What I would do to visit her again…………………..well, it’s not that far away?
December 1 2011 – HongKaiZi to The Super Mario Brother’s zhusu
As soon as there was rustling about and the room was lit with sunlight, little sister and I went out back to the “cesuo” (toilet). I hate this type of morning, when my sides ache from the pain of holding my bladder. It feels as if it gets all blocked and takes a few minutes for my body to realize it’s time…to relax.
I can’t help but gazing towards the mountains during these few minutes. It’s cold and I can see the peaks of the little mountains. Damn, if it wasn’t so cold, and I was a little more insane, I’d ride my bike up there to take a look. Disappointed, as I imagine what that range looks like in the Spring – probably a fairly easy day ride with a nice camp. Not now, on December first.
Little sister and her husband wash up for the morning. Afterwards I’m led back over to her in laws for tea and hard breads. As she and I get ready, I get a couple of “how much did that cost?” Please, please…lets not play that game. It’s such a typical Chinese thing and I don’t find it among the minorities so much…please, don’t do this.
Her brother in-law is asleep in the corner. Three additional Kazakh men enter to join us for breakfast. They are quite nice and we go through all the basic questions and comments again. I still can’t get over how adorable her father in law is. Just adorable…in his thick army green pants.
The bread chunks are hard and you have to let them soak in the tea. The tea is different here. They add a yogurt to the milk tea. So there are little chunks of yogurt floating on top of the tea. Watching little sister, I see her scoop up the yogurt with the hard bread. I mimic, delicious.
We all head out, as it’s time for the family chores to be taken care of. Her husband heads out on his motorcycle, father is moving the sheep out of the stable, and mother begins her milking duties.
There is a litter of puppies behind the house. I can’t get over how adorable they are, with their snorting and crying. It’s hard for me not to ask if I can buy one. It’s too cold and they are too young…just would be cruel.
I spend some more time with little sister and I get a few more “how much did that cost?” questions. Okay. I can’t do this anymore.
She asks me if I’m going to stay another day and I just get a strange vibe that maybe I should go on. I know I’m welcome to stay but decide to tell her I will leave and see how she reacts. “No, I really should get going, it’s getting late.”
Not receiving a response that I sometimes get when people REALLY don’t want me to leave. I pack up and set out around 12am. With one final “how much did your bike cost?” Please, little sister…don’t do this to me……..
I give her a hug good-bye and push off. The mama dog decides NOW she wants to attack me. Hearing the barking getting louder I stop in my tracks and see her running towards me. Little sister runs to hold her back.
A wave from the tarmac and I’m off. Within a kilometer I pass her husband on his motorcycle, after putting the sheep to pasture, and I wave goodbye. Good-bye Mr. Handsome!
It’s a long day of riding up. Cold. Very little traffic.
I see the first sign of life around 3 in the afternoon. It consists of a tire fixing place and a restaurant.
Pulling the bike up to the restaurant, removing my sunglasses, and sliding my hat off, I make eye contact with the little toddler in the doorway. I say “Hello!” in my cute child voice for her. She smiles and goes in.
Two older Kazakhs walk out and they are very friendly looking at me and the bike. Harmless, wonderful, people.
I enter into a very old room with a small table and 4 chairs. The cooking area takes up half the space. There is a room to the right that has about 8 Kazakhs and children around a large table. The t.v. is on and some are sitting on the old iron framed bed.
The color palette of the place is browns, reds, dark yellows, and greens. Just a very dark place but I feel warm and the people seem welcoming.
I have a hard time communicating with the woman that’s cooking. I order fried noodles. The folks in the other room ask where I’m from. “I’m American”.
“Ohhhhh, American!” With smiles, nods, and just a feeling of acceptance.
The toddler and I are playing hide and go see around the table and other general child games of looking at each other.
A young man enters and takes a large tray of beef into the small room. When I say “tray of beef”..I mean…it’s basically broiled/roasted whole cow with the skin and organs removed. It actually looks and smells quite delicious.
About 5 minutes later he brings a big chunk out, about 12mm x 12 mm, sets it on a clean plate and drops it in front of me. He smiles, “Chi!”
The cook turns around and smiles while handing me a knife. Well, I guess I just go at it. I’ve had some training in Inner Mongolia and I try not to destroy such a beautiful hunk of beef.
As I cut into the meat, the juices drip down my hands and steam rising from the fresh cut. It may be one of the most delicious meals I’ve had.
My noodles are served with chunks of beef and hot green peppers.
I try to converse with the woman but there is a language barrier. She tells me that the road is mostly flat to the next city. I know to never really believe this stuff completely.
The place is warm and the people are kind. I take a deep breath and relax for a moment. Then filling up my water, I say thank you and head on my way.
From the km count she gave me, I will not be making it to the city unless it’s all downhill.
It’s not. I have a pretty damn good mountain pass to get over. Is it the cold? These climbs just drain me, not like when the weather is fair. I think about how this would of been nothing 4 months ago…but maybe the weather really does drain someone more than you would imagine. I push Nelly the last kilometer.
I’m holding the top of the pass for the remainder of the day…once again, as usual, racing for light.
I don’t know why I do this. Sometimes I think I should just set up camp in the snow but there is a part of me that just says, “keep going keep going, you’ll find something”. At the top of a pass, a nice 20rmb room sure does sound nice.
There is a truck stop on the side of the road. The only “zhusu” has all the windows broken out. I avoid staying where there are truckers like that anyhow. I take a little road down a hill towards a village. No luck. Power back up the hill, past a police station, see 2 officers taking a stroll and I pull clothing over my face. Less trouble.
The pass is a good 15km and I’m not really enjoying it. “Keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize keep the eyes on the prize”
Towards sunset I begin the descent. I hate descents in the winter and at sunset. It’s just so damn cold, although the sky is always the most beautiful. I’m trying to get to somewhere warm, take photos, and just not freeze. It’s quite a balancing act.
I’m freezing, it’s near dark and there is no traffic. Luckily, this helps me hold onto my night vision.
With about 10 minutes left of residual light, I spot a hand painted sign with something about “zhusu” and “1.5km”. Oh hell yes!
I pick up the pace and I see a restaurant with “zhusu” attached to it. It’s tucked into a wooded area with only an outhouse and some cows.
Of course they see me and greet me at the door.
“30rmb!? Really? Well, I guess I don’t have an option. Okay.”
We roll my bike into the room and they reassure me it will be warm, safe, no other company…and the sheets are clean. Okay.
In the restaurant, I order a couple of dishes. As I’m sitting there and I notice that these two men are not typical Chinese men. They remind me of 2 people, with their mustaches. Oh, it’s Mario and Luigi! of the Super Mario Bros. fame.
They don’t have rice so I’m given some breads. Cold bread. I only eat one but they insist that I take all the breads, “a gift”, for breakfast. I’m beginning to think that these men have a relationship – they are not brothers.
Sure, not going to turn down free breads.
Back to my room, it’s dark, I have only one candle to last me the night.
I curl up on top of one blanket and cover with 2. It’s silent. For the past couple of nights, all I hear is silence. I love it. The light begins to flicker, as the the flame extinguishes I can hear the sizzle.
Goodnight.
November 30th – Balikun to HongKaiZi (not really a place – 75km from Balikun)
The 29th was a rest and laundry day. The city was dead outside and I was fortunate to be in a quiet place to actually get good sleep. Eating instant noodles and packaged tofu, in hopes of forgetting the animal claw in my noodles. Ugh.
I forgot to mention that when I arrived at the hotel the day before, the ladies commented that my face was the same color of my red jacket. Yeah…I wonder what everlasting damage I’m doing to my skin. Oh well, whatever.
Thanking the ladies for a nice stay, one helps me with the loaded bike down the steps. Of course I can handle this myself but I just gp with it because helping hands are happy hands. Just don’t touch the Brooks.
Taking a deep breath, knowing I’ve got a good 140km+ to the next legit town. It’s already noon and I push off. Passing through the old part of town, I see a camel in someone’s side yard. Sometimes I see camels in the back of pickup trucks. There is something about the sight of this that always makes me smile…like, reaffirming that I’m in the magical land of Xinjiang.
I pass through some small villages, but I’m still skirting along the edge of the Gobi (China side) and the Tianshan Mountains, directly to my left (South). Desert and snow on both sides…don’t you find it strange…sand and snow…together? Makes you think of “hot” and “ice” – which really don’t go together. Oh China, you and your irony.
Lots of camels to the North (Gobi).
Tianshan mountains, fog (smog) to the South.
I now always carry 2 detailed maps of the province I’m riding – after being left in Tibet without a damn clue what I was doing. From the looks of my topo map I’ll be climbing for the next day and a half. All that means to me is more snow and colder. Yae!
Still in the basin and slowly rising, I look North to the Gobi – wondering where Mongolia starts. Then, realizing I have a very loyal riding partner, I take our team photo. I imagine I can see the Mongolia side of the Gobi, as there seems to be a rise out of the basin about 35-50km away.
At around 6pm, I begin estimating how many minutes I have until I need to set up camp. Now, I’m at a good altitude and it’s cold…back to frozen hands. The day is fairly uneventful, even minimal traffic.
I do pass an old Kazakh man on the side of the road with his massive hat and say “Hello” but he looks at me like I’m insane. Well, he did have some crazy dreads in his hair and looked like he had been living in a well…so maybe HE was insane. This is the only part of China (out of 16,000km) where I don’t get random “hello”s. Strange.
The day is coming to an end and near the highest point of the route I notice a white concrete building in the middle of nowhere. There is a telephone tower about 20 meters away and 2 motorcycles parked out front of the concrete establishment.
I pull in for food and hope to find a place to sleep. There is “zhusu” written above one of the doors.
A young Kazakh woman walks out as I pull up.
“You have accommodation?”, hoping she can understand and speak Mandarin. Most men can speak some Mandarin and women generally can’t.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Just one person?”
“Yes.”
“10rmb”
“Okay, can I put my bike into the room?”
She helps me push my bike into a cold room with a 2 meter long platform for sleeping/sitting/eating. In the corner there is a large cabinet. My bike is squeezed between the platform and the cabinet.
The corner near the door is a large drying rack and it’s loaded with meats. The room is dark, cold, and smells like a mix of cheese (not the Western kind) and beef jerky (again, not the kind I’m accustomed to). I take notice of the sausage? and inflated bladder hanging off the rack.
As I walk into the restaurant, an old Kazakh shepherd is walking out and he lets out a noise of surprise, and perhaps, joy. I smile, “hello”, and walk in.
There is a younger Kazakh man sitting in the dining area with no lights on. He’s drinking beer and eating his noodles, dressed in the big bulky pants that have been lined with animal fur.
I order my noodles and stand next to the coal stove that is near the door to the kitchen.
The noodle flavor is fantastic. It reminds me of the taco seasoning you get with your Ortega Taco Kit at the grocery store. Pretty much, delicious, and the best flavor I have yet experienced. The great thing about noodles in China is that you will NEVER get the same tasting noodles.
As I’m finishing, the room is growing darker and darker.
“Big Sister,” the girl looks at me.
I look up and she directs me to follow her. We walk through the kitchen, past the little area of small groceries consisting of cookies, candies, baijiu, cigarettes, and other miscellany, and enter through a door. Dimly lit with one fluorescent bulb.
She tells me the other room is too dark and to rest here in her home.
It’s very new looking and I am assuming she is a newly wed. There are wedding photographs above her bed, one Chinese style the other Kazakh style. The large platform is covered with carpets and a new white bed in the corner covered with a decorative red lace cover.
She directs me to the chair next to the coal stove.
I notice the embroidered pillows and the stack of blankets, everything appearing so clean and new. I’m making sense of everything and these must be wedding gifts. The Tibetans have similar piles, in the young couples homes and tents.
She sits on the platform and we go through the basic questions. It’s confirmed she is Kazakh and she is 23. Recently married, for 6 months, and grew up around Bali.
There are the random questions of “how much did that cost”. It’s a very Chinese thing to do and I got about a half dozen, I let it go.
She tells me the other room is too cold and I can live in her home, with her husband. That is very kind…it is quite warm and cozy.
I learn that most of the decorative embroidery and pillows have been done by her. I tell her I’m not very good and I ask if the blankets were wedding gifts, they were.
Her husband arrives, in his amazing boots and dark brown hair, combed to the side. He may actually be one of the most handsome men, and well groomed, I have seen in a very long time. A very western look in his face, gorgeous and masculine, I am trying to prevent myself from blushing. There is no way I’m going to get a photograph as I turn my eyes away from his. Shameful.
He smiles and I say hello. I am noticing that perhaps he can’t speak Mandarin, as she does a lot of the interpreting. He takes off his knee high boots, which seem very clean and new, and puts on some slippers. His boots are amazing – I would love to get a pair.
After a short rest I am asked to follow her to her in-laws. Not sure what was going on and kind of being dragged, I left my camera behind. Big mistake, not that anything happened to it, I missed some great photo opportunities. Lesson learned.
We enter a much older room, where I’m hit with the smell of the yogurt, cheese, and some meat. I smile. It’s much dirtier by comparison but more of what I am accustomed to.
There is a tiny old woman preparing some tea and cleaning up after dinner. There is an adorable little man sitting indian style on the platform with a tiny little kitten stretched over his leg. He smiles at me while continually petting the grey, sleepy eyed cat.
I’m invited to sit down for some tea. Little sister tells them about me. I am watching the kitten and the old man smiles and notices, I wonder if my smile was beaming that bright. He tosses the kitten to me. She is purring.
I’ve been wearing a piece of black cloth elastic, double wrapped around one of my fingers for weeks and I take it off to play with the kitten. She enjoys it a lot, as do I and the old man watching her. Before I started playing with her, she had curled up on my thigh with a loud vibrating purr.
After a little play, she scampers back to the man and plops on his lap. We both exchange a chuckle and smile.
The old woman is digging through a large sack filled with fur. She pulls out a stiff piece and starts crumpling it and rubbing it together, expressing to me that she is going to use it line the clothes. I tell her my mother makes clothes too, she smiles. She continues rubbing it together, to make the skin softer, letting me know how and why to do it.
Little sister’s husband arrives and his brother is in the corner. His brother is not so handsome.
We have some tea and chat. They are curious to know if Kazakhstan is like the Kazakh communities in China. I tell them I don’t know because I haven’t been yet. My assumption is that it’s not.
The room is decorated in Islamic pictures and embroidered pieces. I’m asked if I can read it and say no.
I ask little sister about the tourism in the area. In the summer, how many tourists come through. She says it’s hard to say, maybe 20 a day during peak season. “The Chinese come to climb the mountains”.
I’m not sure how we got here but we started talking about the minorities and the Han. Oh, yeah!, I expressed that I loved the Kazakhs and they were quite helpful and kind, along with other minorities. Also that there are some unfair things going on.
“What do you think about the Han”, asks little sister.
“Well, they are okay, I guess” with some other stuff I’d rather not discuss here. I use this line when speaking with minorities. Sometimes I will say more, depending on how politically sensitive I want to get and where I’m trying to get the conversation.
Before she asked this, the old woman had said something in Kazakh and had assumed that the mother wanted to know my opinion. Little sister translated what I said and the old woman beams one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. She nods yes while not taking her hands off the stiff animal fur.
Maybe I interpreted something wrong, but I could of sworn that they wanted me to stay another day and mentioned taking photographs. I was asked if I had a camera.
After the tea, it’s time for bed.
Little sister and her husband lie down some new blankets and pillows at the far end of the platform. It’s comfortable and warm.
I wake up around 2am and I could of sworn there was an alarm and a red light going off. The man gets up and adds coal to the fire. Wow, I don’t see this often in China. As I would say, “he’s got good home training”.
Not sleeping well because my bladder is full and I always get these horrible stabbing pains in my kidneys if I can’t take care of it. I will lie here in pain, switching sides until sunrise.
Little Sister
Momma, the next am, taking a break from milking the cows.
Tibetan Hostesses, Kham (NW.Sichuan) Summer 2011
The girl on the left could speak fairly good English. She met Brandon and I at the restaurant her brother cousin owned. The two older girls in the photo are sisters. Their family had lived in these Tibetan mountains for generations. When we walked up to the temple, as they bought Brandon and I each a beer, she explained how the city had grown since her childhood.
There were about 2 dozen small Tibetan homes now, and a large area of homes and a dormitory for the monks.
These girls were half Tibetan half Han. Their mother, Han, had passed away near her birth.
The house we are in here is new, because her father had sold the older and bigger home. Since his daughters were growing up, and one in college.
I slept in her bed and Brandon got the floor. In the morning he gets up first and runs back into the room and tells me to get my lazy a$$ up because it’s 11am! “Oh sh*t!? REALLY???!!”
“No, it’s 9:30”.
Even though we left early in the day, we didn’t make a lot of progress because we kept getting stopped for tea and tsampa. We weren’t riding road or tarmac either. The road eventually broke into a cow path through some of the most beautiful valleys I have ever seen in my life. This route continued for a couple of days and over a pass.
I’ll never forget when we got out of the mountain valley and finally hit tarmac, a Tibetan invites us in for some frozen Yak meat. Yes…raw frozen Yak…Brandon and I especially enjoyed the cookies.
November 21 Songshu to YanChiXiang
Even in another country, I know the sounds of shoveling snow, snow plows, and even the type of light that sneaks through the window to let you know…SNOW!
Yep, 2nd day riding and I get about 3″ of snow along the top of the mountain. My morning greeting:
It’s about 3km of backtrack to where the road breaks to go North to the desert. I pass about a dozen trucks putting chains on their tires and only feel my own tire slip once.
Lunch, noodles, a soda, head North. Steady incline for majority of the day. I can’t help but think how all m photos are blue and white…blue and white…blue and white. Between thoughts of “how am I going to warm my fingers?!”
The day basically consists of this scenery without traffic. At the top of the mini pass (I say mini now because after Sichuan and Tibet, the mountains and passes are only hills and bumps to me) I see trucks pulled off and a police checkpoint to my right with a small town to the left. This is the town where the men in Songshu said I should stay the night because I will never make it to Yiwu.
Police checkpoints still make my heart race, a lump in my throat, and my vision gets a little shaky. I’m rattled but I come back down and remind myself it’s only Xinjiang. Yes, exactly, it’s ONLY Xinjiang. Last night was my first visit by the local police, on my first day riding in Xinjiang, to take care of my foreign residence in China. Always a pain in my butt!
I go past the trucks, pass the checkpoint, and there is a man standing in the road with the long Army green coat that reminds me of the gate keepers at Emerald City…if it was Olive Green City. “This place have accommodation?”
“Probably not”.
“I will look”.
It’s a small village and I pull in and ask the man on the motorcycle, a Kazakh, “this place have accommodation?”
“Probably not”.
I still have about 3 hours of light so I power up to the tip top of the pass and begin a slight descent. Fingers freeze…Fingers REALLY REALLY FREEZE.
Camels!
I can see a small town ahead with some new construction, grey concrete with a crane.
The sun is setting fast…the roads are freezing and nearly a sheet of ice. Although on this side of the mini mountains it’s not as bad as it was earlier. My hands are completely frozen after removing my 2 pairs of gloves to photograph the camels, that walked away from me.
I get off to walk because of the ice. School is getting out, it’s nearly 6pm. There is a school, must be a place to stay. Walking puts feeling back into my frozen feet and I can fist my hands up in my gloves. A man tells me there is zhusu around the corner. I don’t see it.
2 boys on a scooter ask if they can help me. I tell them what I need, they tell me there is nothing there. It’s really hard for me to believe this. So I say thanks and walk all the way through the town…I have about 15 minutes before it’s dark.
On the edge of town they return. They tell me they will help me. One boy stays with me, the other goes away on this scooter. He returns, nothing. He asks me what I’m going to do…I say go on, slowly. I say I have a tent and hope for an offer of one of their homes. Nope.
Gotta go. Go.
About a 1/4km down the road I look on and it’s very very barren. All I see are headlights and the dark blue. Riding at night, on ice…not so good.
I pull off the road and into a road tunnel. It’s just one of those ditches under the road that cattle/sheep pass through or water. It’s dry, not a lot of turds, it’s not a concrete one, so I could pitch my tent – as it’s nearly 7′ in diameter.
It’s dark. I begin to unbuckle my rear rack bag on the edge of the opening and I hear a gate closing. Shit. Shepherd.
I run in. I can hear the footsteps crunching over the ice towards me…I walk to greet him, only seeing a dark figure with an orange tip from a cigarette. He’s about 5′ and I greet him with “hello” so he knows I’m not Han and a foreigner.
“What are you doing?”
“Resting.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Hami.”
“what country person are you?”
“America.”
“Are you cold?”
“Alright.”
“Come into my home over there”, as he points to the small rows of concrete structures.
“Okay, is your wife home?”
“Yes,” with a slight smile.
We walk over and I rest my bike, fully loaded minus the bar bag, outside. The door is guarded by a dog and a Kazakh woman steps out from a small concrete room. They exchange a short conversation and she smiles to me. I enter a room about 8’x 8′ with 3 small beds shoved against the back and side with a little boy and color television. I smile and say hello to the toddler and directed to sit next to the small coal burning stove.
Basic questions and conversation. I lie and say I’m 28…I’m struggling to figure out her age…she looks like she could be in her late 30’s with deep set forehead wrinkles…but I keep doing the math of a 4 year old…and the hidden newborn in the cradle in the back of the beds. It doesn’t make sense…this is crazy. They’ve been married for about 6 years…he looks my age. She is 28…should have lied more. I don’t care what kind of woman you are, where you come from, how you’ve lived…no woman likes to feel “Old looking” – even nomads. She’s had a rough life and very weathered. I’ve got to start saying 24 when I’m dealing with nomads/shepherd families.
She washes her hands!!!! Then begins to make dumplings with beef. Wow, she washed her hands, and he does too after handling the coal. This sure isn’t Tibet!
At one point the man rushes out, to return with a baby lamb that he shoves under the bed. It comes out, shivering and “bah”ing with some poo hanging off it’s rear. It’s still so young it’s wobbling around on the floor.
We watch t.v. with a little conversation, she is making dumplings with a break to breast feed…and the little boy and I are entertaining ourselves with little games of facial expressions.
I have to force the 3 bowl of dumplings down…after repeated “chi chi chi”. eat eat eat!
The great thing I have found about minorities is that they are really kind and helpful but won’t talk your ear off like the majority. We had some basic conversation and they were curious what the Kazakhs in Kazakhstan are like…I can not answer. I don’t know.
The father is wonderful with his children. Both parents are hunkered down over the new baby girl. The toddler frustrated, banging against the small table the tv sets on. During the dumpling making, he had taken her out of the small cradle, that she was strapped into and cuddled with her. Talking to her, snuggling his face into her. He sets her up against a pile of blankets with her wobbly little head. When mother is taking care of her, he devotes playing time with the little boy, who is jumping over the metal frame of the bed. At one point, crossing back and forth over it, I see him grab his crotch and whimper. ooops!
At one point the infant is in the fathers lap and she is looking at me with her wobbly head, and she begins to smile, drool, and make a high pitched noise. The parents notice this and smile. I smile.
After dinner there is a little tea, curds added. Strange but good. He apologizes for his home being so small, I feel so bad because my Chinese isn’t so good and I smile and say “it’s not a problem”. What am I supposed to say?
As the toddler gets ready for bed, as he takes off layers and layers of close, he gets a little attitude and starts playing some sort of game. I can’t help but start laughing, with a few tears rolling down my face. The parents smile at this but I can sense a feeling of “what’s that foreigner laughing at”.
It was a delightful evening where I got to warm up, literally, and warm up to a new group of people in China that I haven’t had any experience with. Trying to learn customs and figure out how to photograph this simple life. I did notice no baijiu…which is always a relief.
I leave my bike outside, a little apprehensive, and go to the room next to the heated living room. It’s a large room with a bed with beautiful weaved carpets and fancy looking blankets with embroidery. He stands on the bed once I’m settled in and removes the light bulb. Goodnight.