To the untrained eye intersections in China may seem like a Vegas table game, where some super being is rolling the dice to see if chance will allow any of the players to escape unharmed; however, after a few weeks of my life being one of the die, I must say there is an extraordinary and subtle organization to traffic here. The key, I believe, is to never stop moving. I’ve learned this through trial and error; mostly taking my life and throwing up to the fates to decide whether or not my theory is correct. (Seeing as I am still able to write this to you, I must be on to something.)
The traffic food chain is the complete reverse from the US. This is a land where the bus reigns over all. I have a sketch in my journal of a bus, mouth wide and bearing its fangs, overtaking the cab, which is over the car, which is over the scooter and bike, which is over the mere human. In China, the pedestrian is the plankton of the traffic food chain. Understanding the hierarchy serves one well when deciding how to move through an intersection. The bus will always keep its trajectory, while the others must dance around and obey the natural order.
The flow makes sense and always (well, usually) produces the desired end result. Stopping throws off the karma and chaos ensues, as exemplified when I stopped in the middle of an intersection only to cause a massive jam requiring multiple cars and bikes and people to go into a panic when they couldn’t figure how to get out of this knot – a knot where a plankton-like American stood dumbfounded in the center. So long as you move – whether it be side-stepping, speeding up, slowing down, or flat out jumping – the order continues.
I hardly notice the traffic anymore. It all makes sense. I can see the order and plan, though I am looking forward to returning home where I will no longer be at the bottom of the food chain.
Toilet Troubles
Squatty potties are the norm. Thankfully I have evolved (or maybe devolved) and developed the necessary skills to master this Chinese staple. The first week or so I was plagued with wet ankles, never able to perfect my aim. But once I was able to get the physics of it down, my troubles turned to a new sort.
This past weekend, my new friend Karen and I went to the ladies room at a restaurant, where we were greeted with a new form of squatty potty: No doors, 3 foot walls, and a backward facing hole. Seeing as we were both dealing with female issues unique to our very different life stages, we made a pact to see each other through this event. With the main door locked, when commenced to take care of our business, only to nearly lose our balance when we started laughing – and couldn’t stop – at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.
Later on I found another restroom toiler, but it was not gender specific. It had two stalls and two doors, but here, the men and women go in together. I was trying to adjust my timing to get in there with a woman, but my little dance outside of the door only caused mass confusion. So I bit the bullet. With my head down and refusing to make eye contact, I entered my stall and tried to pretend there wasn’t a man right next door.
And then the coup’de gra: I knocked a woman off the hole. At lunch this week, I went to the restroom and tried to enter a stall where the door was partially open. (Realize that even if there are doors, privacy doesn’t matter; oftentimes people go with the doors wide open.) Of course, there was a woman in there, and I hit her in the head and she lost her balance. She was taking care of some serious business, and I all I could do was say ‘sorry’ over and over again. But the more I said it, the louder she yelled. So I cut my losses, went into the next stall, and finished in record time just so I would not have to face her at the sink.
Really, it shouldn’t be this hard.
Is that rain?
The best way to describe the weather is damp. It’s not just humid, though we’ve been in the upper 90% everyday. It’s damp. The pollution and humidity create a new kind of damp. My hair and skin are never fully dry, and papers and clothes always have that need-five-more-minutes-in-the-dryer feeling.
In Beijing, we only saw blue sky for about 2 hours after a heavy rain on the Great Wall. In Nanjing, I saw my shadow for the first time while we were in Phoenix Square. But on Wednesday, I left the hotel for school and I saw a full blue sky. After a few hours the pollution rolled in. You can see it coming, like a massive thunderstorm.
It rains almost every day, but there have been several times when we were not convinced it was really rain. The air pollution is so think that it sometimes appears to be a case of inversion and the particles we are feeling are actually toxic. Kind of like the fish soup I had on my first night in Jiangning.
15 Minutes of Fame
If it’s true that we all will have our 15 minutes of fame, then I am living mine. In my travels outside of the larger cities, I’ve met people who have never seen a Westerner and they want a chance to photograph this illusive creature. Yes, they really do exist! People will approach us no matter where we are just to say hello and take a picture. I’ve now started asking them to use my camera too just so I can have proof of my stardom. So if you look through my pictures and see me with random folks, just know this is a way for me to remember my glory days when I am old.
