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I have done some reflecting on my time here. This day marks nearly three months (about two months and twenty days) since I’ve arrived. My attitude has followed the typical model for those who go abroad into a different culture, honeymoon phase and now homesickness, and if things go like last time, next month I should begin to finally settle in.
In the meantime, here are a few short pieces:
“A Disturbance at LAX”
Thanks to a change in airlines from American to Air China, I had to bypass the security checkpoint and get my tickets from the Air China booth. No one told me this. The airline official looked at my electronic tickets and shrugged and said “I don’t know”. No condolences. Not even a fucking well-wish or an educated guess. Hell, I would have been okay with a simple “good luck”.
Twas 8:15 pm PST, and no one stood behind the Air China booth. So I waited an hour, a white guy among Chinese, a minority among a majority, a prelude for the census to come. Finally they showed up to work and after another hour, I grabbed my tickets and headed back through security.
Since I had not acquired any automatic weapons or bombs during transit, I breezed through security. As I staggered towards Gate 27, my stomach overtook me and led me to the first restaurant in sight: a Burger King.
I know airport shops suffer from severe inflation. I also know the cost of living in Los Angeles is higher than say, Springfield TN, but no amount of knowledge prepared me for seeing a value meal at $10.
10 bucks for a burger, fries, and a coke. Why not include a side of crack?
Behind the counter stands a guy who looks like Carlos Mencia’s rejected twin brother. The one who lost the parental coin toss. I step up to the counter and he looks to his side and utters rather loudly, “Man my culo’s really itching.”
He starts scratching his ass.
And I don’t mean a light scratch. This isn’t one cheek or the other or both. No, his fingers plunge in deep and plumb around lower depths, a harsh wince on his face all the while.
He looks to me, a yearning for swift healing. I refrain. Others may have offered a helping hand.
I am not that altruistic. Sorry.
“Squat-down!”
For Americans, squat-toilets can be difficult to use, if not terrifying. The key to successfully using a squat toilet is to approach it with the right attitude. A “Yes I Can” attitude, and then after you succeed, be sure to tell your friends “Yes I did!”. They should demand evidence. True friends will, at any rate.
I feared squat-toilets until I figured out how to properly use one. For awhile, I was unsure of the correct squatting position for maximum efficiency. How did I find out? I won’t go into too much detail, but let’s just say an open stall door and a man yelling into a cell phone answered all my questions.
Even the ones I never asked.
“Life in this People’s Republic”
Today, Tuesday, they told me the school is organizing a trip for the foreign teachers on Saturday. I asked Camilla when they decided this.
Today. Time to clear your schedules.
On some Wednesday afternoon, Ellen (one of the Chinese-English teachers) asked me to do the English Corner. Sure thing. When?
Friday night. Time to clear your schedules.
Last week, they told me I was doing a lecture on that Tuesday. When did they tell me?
Monday night. Time to clear your schedules.
The week I arrived, they told me they were taking the foreign teachers to the local clinic for the mandatory health exam. Great. When?
Next week. That became this week. They tell me again. When? Next week. A few next weeks later, we arrived at the clinic to find an old woman sitting outside, fanning herself.
Some Chinese dialogue ensued. Camilla turns to us.
Camilla: The power is out.
At the clinic?
Camilla: Yes. We’ll come back.
When?
Next week. You get used to it here. Xia4 xue2 qi1 zai4 jian4
