Photo Journal: Hodgepodge of Life

Due to my blogbatical, I have a wonderful backlog of photographs that have been stuck on my camera just waiting to make their debut. Now that I can sit in front of my computer for longer than five minutes without wanting to fall over, I have enjoyed going through them and remembering that even amidst a really crappy month great things were done and seen. 

A stroll through the fabric market during the afternoon siesta is always a treat. While looking for fabric, I also enjoy a personal game of "Where's the laoban (boss)?"

The food court in front of our school has undergone a major renovation. We find something new every time we walk through; though men laying on cardboard boxes, smoking, is not an uncommon sight.

I believe Shel Silverstein's inspiration for Where the Sidewalk Ends was China. Abrupt ending sidewalks are a norm in this country.

Zach got a new hammock made...only for the fabric to rip on the second use. Cheap Chinese crap.

While temples are a normal sight, two cannons guarding the gate are not. An afternoon stroll through a village with Roger and Ada led us to this discovery. A villager reveled in his opportunity to tell the foreigners about the fight against opium using commandeered French cannons. We feel there were some loopholes and exaggerations to the tale.

Ada displayed her acupuncture skills on Zach one afternoon. This was in the midst of our sickness, so Zach was willing to face his fear of needles to see if this ancient practice would bring relief. It did!

Chinese are definitely not quiet while they work, which can be frustrating when trying to teach a speaking class. However, I do love their chiding in the local dialect and the cackles of laughter that explode throughout their chore.

I took a solo bike ride one evening into the surrounding villages. Not only was I treated to a great sunset, but gifted with a bag of vegetables. One of the landscape ladies that I see frequently and chat with as I walk to class, was outside her home as I rode by. I was unaware that she lived in this particular village. I stopped to greet her when she waved me down. I met her four children, challenged my Chinese as I spoke with her and the neighbors, and walked away with cucumbers and greens fresh from her garden plot. It was a beautiful reminder that kindness is not limited by language.

This plaza has become the brunt of campus jokes - an ugly statue, Easter egg tomb flower beds, a horrific color scheme, and the constant barrage of maintenance because of cheap materials and bad planning. Thanks to living in this country, I have definitely learned the difference between developing and building. However, the reason I snapped this photo one afternoon was due to the fountains actually running. Another ongoing joke in China is that we know someone important is around when a fountain is actually running. This country has a love of building fountains but then not running them. The logic? Saves electricity, so students tell us.

What should one do with historical buildings? Why, put in a parking lot, add some tacky metal awnings and buildings, and open a driving school! I hope there are not any wrong turns, as it may be hard to explain to the ancestors why their abode is in shambles thanks to a crazy teenage driver doing donuts on their property.

Zach has been spending a lot of hours on the football pitch. Not only has he been in the intramural tournament with his regular team (the Football Association), but the Foreign Language faculty asked him to join this year. For four years, he has been petitioning to get on the team to no avail. This year, another faculty asked for him and, in true Chinese politics, a spot was opened for him on the Foreign Language faculty. The antics of this team are worthy of a stand alone post, but to give a nugget of what was, I actually had to yell, "If you touch my husband again, I may kill you!"

As for the Football Association team, they are on a winning streak which has them playing in the semi-final this weekend.

The past two weeks have been snakepalooza on campus. WeChat is abuzz with snake sightings - in the dorms, floating in the non-running fountain, and a surprise drop-in through a window during a class. Two Sundays ago, we learned that poisonous snakes do slither around on campus when one decided to hang out on our front stoop and greet Lucy, Gavin's dog, with a kiss when she investigated its presence. Initially, Gavin did not think she had been bitten, but after a round of photos he went inside and quickly reemerged in a bit of a panic. Lucy had definitely been bitten and we spent the next thirty minutes in save-the-dog mode. It was touch and go; I worked to calm Lucy, while Zach and Gavin flooded WeChat with pleas for help. Within an hour, Lucy was a trending topic, students had risen to the challenge of giving aid, and the on-campus animal hospital rallied their resources and opened specifically to help a dog in need. In this process, we learned that no anti-venom serum is available in this city. The doctors told Gavin he should have caught the snake for its blood.

Not Dead

Fifty eight days without a blog post.

It was not for the lack of stories. There were abundant birthday shenanigans, a couple village celebrations, hilarious lost-in-translation moments, kittens (tons of kitten snuggles), a jaunt to Shenzhen for amazing reunions, and the mundane tales of living on a campus with crazy Chinese students. Yet, for all the good and laughable moments, I cannot deny that the past fifty eight days have been rather crummy.

Life is hard.

Living in an alien culture can make it just that much harder.

The cause of this malaise lies within our hutong. Seven months ago, Zhanjiang was ravaged by a typhoon. In its wrath, it smoted our home rendering it a windowless and soggy dwelling. It was a trying time. Eventually (as in three weeks later) the windows returned, but we noticed that the walls did not really return to their pre-typhoon state. Mold popped up more frequently and what plaster that was actually left on the walls started to become powdery. We hoped our hot tropical weather would solve all problems.

We left for winter holiday.

Six weeks later, we returned to the worst mold infestation ever seen. We have had some doozies, but usually it is relegated to specific sections. This time, the entire apartment did not bear the pristine white walls we were so used to but rather a nice array of black, green, and orange. It took three days and twelve bottles of bleach.

The battle had begun.

Tape would not stick to the walls.

We would wake to our floors looking as though a dusting of snow had descended.

It was a daily chore of toting a spray bottle filled with bleach to hunt down new mold appearances.

I was in hyper-cleaning mold in an effort to keep the beast at bay.

At the beginning of April, we jaunted to Shenzhen for the Qing Ming Festival. It was an amazing three days filled with reunions with former students and exploring Shenzhen. The euphoria of such a great weekend was quickly dashed upon our return. A mere three days away made our hutong look as though we had left for another winter holiday.

This also began the stage of our walls actually falling off.

Chunks of plaster would collapse at a simple tap; walls began to resemble a cratered moonscape.

Then came the sickness.

Coughing.

Sore throats.

I lost my voice for a week.

Fatigue.

One afternoon, Zach returned from football to find me lying on the bed crying.

I was broken.

Emotionally and physically.

I would drag myself from bed in the morning, go to class, return and collapse on the bed for a long afternoon siesta. I had minimal energy and that went towards cleaning.

The hutong was our sanctuary from the chaos and madness of this country and it was now just as chaotic as everything else.

Towards the end of the month, we finally threw our hands up in defeat.

Up to this point, we had been civilized and nice about requesting help from the Foreign Affairs Office to no avail. Not one person, not even our immediate boss, had once stopped by post-typhoon to check on things. So, we started to make a loud fuss, contacting those above our immediate boss and involving students.

Sadly, we had to start spreading the rumor that if the administration did not fix our apartment we would have to leave due to health concerns. While there was truth to it, we were sad that we had to resort to such tactics to even get noticed.

We definitely got noticed. Shaming does work.

One afternoon we had our immediate boss, her boss, and the head of the logistics department strolling through our apartment. It was not pleasant; the higher bosses were not happy that it had gotten to such a state with our immediate boss taking the flack for not dealing with the problem sooner. At this point, we really did not care about the finger-blaming politics but kept pushing them towards a solution.

The following couple of days involved negotiations, combating bizarre Chinese logic (I am still astounded that telling a Chinese person that walls that fall off are NOT normal is debatable), multiple rounds of blame passing by the high ups, and a whole bunch of other stuff I do not even know about. Nor really want to know about.

In true Chinese fashion, it became the hurry up and wait scenario. We had waited seven months for something and it came with a resounding decree: "You need to move out today."

We got today to mean three days later.

On the last Sunday of April, we moved.

Their suggestions of moving to town or the on-campus guesthouse were not so appealing, so we sent a plea of an email our former coworker, Barbara, who had returned to Canada weeks earlier. Her apartment sat empty; we asked if we could apartment sit.

She said yes.

We danced with joy. I literally stood up after reading the email and danced around the office.

While life was still chaotic, hope was born.

We rallied. We packed every bag and box we could get our hands on in such a short time frame. We asked fellow teachers if we could store things in their empty nooks and crannies. We sent a plea to our students for moving power and they answered.

In forty five minutes, our hutong was empty. We were so grateful.

The past week and a half has looked a wee bit different.

Cooking is a scavenger hunt for ingredients and utensils.

The kitchen was built by gnomes.

Zach reverted to child status a couple of mornings while trying to get dressed - "Where's my pants/shirt/shoes?!"

We get to enjoy an expansive balcony that overlooks a wild, tropical portion of our campus.

Most importantly, we are healthy. No coughing. No sore throats. No fatigue.

Energy abounds.

As for the status of our hutong. They told us it would be ten days; which in Chinese counting means at least one month. As of today, work has not begun. We sent an inquiring text to our boss as to when it might begin.

The reply: Tomorrow.

Translation: Make yourself cozy and enjoy the new normal for a while.