Good Morning?

Dear China,

I'm never quite sure what will greet me on Saturday mornings. Will I awake naturally, to the sun streaming through my curtains? Or perhaps to the symphony of horns from overzealous drivers? Usually, it's the machine-gun rat-tat-tat of firecrackers, alerting everyone in the neighbourhood that someone new is moving into their apartment. (That's my all-time favourite at 5a.m. in the morning) 

But today, it was something different. A high-pitched nasal soprano, singing traditional Chinese music, shook me from my slumber. With one eye open, I rolled over and stared at my alarm clock: 8:23a.m. "You've got to be kidding me!" When I finally managed to peel myself out of bed, I thought it wise to investigate. When my apartment courtyard revealed nothing, I noted that the noise seemed loudest from the bedroom. As I peeked out my bedroom window, I discovered the source of this rude awakening:

The new spa. 

While I was first excited about the opening of a spa a mere fifteen steps from my apartment gate, this excitement has now been replaced by sheer annoyance. While I appreciate the fanfare that every new business brings to its corner of the world, I can't imagine that anyone really cares about a spa at 8a.m. on a Saturday morning. Or perhaps, it's just me.

Returning now to the scene across the street: a red inflated half-circle banner created a welcome gate to the spa. I've seen these before. Every new business (or so it seems) erects one, although I don't know what the Chinese writing on these banners say. In front of the banner, there was a stage with two giant speakers flanking either side. No singer in sight - nothing beats the recorded version. Periodically, a male host (assumedly) would take the stage and make some sort of announcement or comment. 

I'd love to tell you when the music stopped, but it's been two hours and I've heard the same song one too many times. 

I would love to know your thoughts on this - am I judging too harshly? 

A.