I felt tired waking up, thirsty and a little bit of sore throat. Must have gotten too much sun the day before and not enough water.
The bridge going to the village, a steal hanging bridge was wet as always. The morning mist still hanged by the mountain side so I stopped for a little bit of scenery shot — I haven’t done much of that yet.
Ah-Che was in the yard again with his crossbow. Seems like that’s his daily routine. The wife soon left after breakfast to the field, and Ah-Che stayed with me and the little girl. A knife-making day.
Everything started with a piece of scrap steel. The blower got the tiniest engine to power it on. Electricity made it easier, though just by looking at the way it was used, one can hardly think about industrial production of any sort.
Coal burning, red-hot steel, the pounding, the hammer, from all I can tell, it’s all hand-made. He made a longer one about one foot, and a small, finger-length piercing knife. After the grinding, it was cold-water shocking, and more grinding before he went up to his workshop to scavenge something for the handles. And as if as simple as that, two knives were done.
The little girl was quiet for a while, and of course, she got enough chances to create troubles. Ah-Che has the patience of a mountain.
When resting by the fire, we chatted a bit. He could give out more Mandarin now, probably not as nervous about talking to me as before. Despite not even able to write down his own name in Chinese character, I can sense he has a lot in his mind.