Predicaments of pix-addiction

As the result of my own thoughtless actions all pictures of Hainan happened to be treacherously and foolishly deleted from my computer (if it's any comfort for those who didn't lose faith in my mental adequacy, I may say that it all happened deep into the night, as the last act of my fogged mind), thus making me now apply some extra strenuous efforts in the ungrateful task of getting them back from some third-party sources. The irreplaceables by default fully correspond to their name, but there are still some good ones left - waiting to be uploaded for your entertainment.

This unfortunate event didn't prevent me though from contemplating a possibility that the Higher Powers - with the best of intentions - chose to bereave me of some unnecessary pictures, and for that I cannot but be simply grateful because all's for the better and I was really getting too obsessed with those images, thinking of how I'd post them and what I'd write on them... You know, the Hainan experience was in itself a pretty nice gift bestowed upon the bleak days of my routine-clad life to be veiled by some pixelled images : )) Makes you wanna value life for what it is and not the reflections of life, doesn't it?

And as a sign of the white stripe on that zebra'ed hide of life here's one visual treat from our trip - a lion dance we witnessed in Haikou. Imagining the deafening pulsation of the cymbals riding on the rhythmical throbbing of the big drum (partly seen on the left) might create the lacking audio stream a picture cannot provide. I enjoyed the performance (given apparently to some bosses of the Haikou Hotel seen in the background),

as much as I enjoyed brief talks with the members of the Haikou city kung-fu club who actually put the lion dance up, especially the daughter of the Teacher, who - after the necessary timidity ritual of giggling and "I'm not worthy" rolling of the eyes - gladly showed me what she's all about (martial-art-wise).

The acme of the whole dance dealie was the lion snatching the cabbage head dangling from a string of firecrackers, which was in its turn held by a hotel bellboy precariously balancing on the edge of the glass roof, the lion all this time mincing on a wattled shield which rested on the shoulders of the four happy performers, who used that time to smoke, crack jokes and quench their thirst. A happy end ensued, the lion's trap devoured the cabbage, the 'lion-head' kung-fu master descended from the buckler, and the welcome silence of a moist morning city rushed upon us as the drum was carried away to the truck.