Yesterday morning sucked, big time. 10 minutes into my morning cab ride to work and the driver was suddenly overcome with hatred...towards me. It probably sounds comical but at the time it was anything but. "What did you to do make him so pissed at you," I was asked by a few people. Really?! Que horror, I can't even speak his effing language! The only exchange of words between us (the only words I was capable of exchanging), were the address of my destination and that I was an American teacher. I pointed at my wrist, as to make a time gesture, pointed to the clock on the dashboard and essentially made some sort of movement indicating that I wanted him to drive faster. He was driving extremely slow. And in China, that's saying a lot. I think that maybe the arm gesture threw him off. Actually, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I have no clue as to what I could have possibly done to anger him. Long story short, he ended up dropping me off on the side of the road in 100 degree heat. Completely stranded. It was the kind of incident that makes you feel proud for keeping your sh*t together, so to speak. So in the 3 1/2 months I have lived in China, either I have suddenly become extremely patient and tolerant, or 3 1/2 months of living in China has taught me to choose my battles. Probably the latter. In that regard, I think it might have a bit to do my not living near any of my friends. If i want to meet my friends in Hangzhou, its a pretty hefty cab fare. I feel a bit isolated and although I initially ignored it, when I decided to take this job I had a lingering feeling that at some point isolation would make its debut, even if isolation meant a 7 km gap that was littered with traffic. But hey, I knew what I was signing up for when I signed the contract. Contract number 3, remember? I knew I wouldn't be within walking distance to the people and the places that I had become so familiar with during my first month here in Hangzhou. Everyone has their breaking point; emotionally, mentally, physically. Regardless of how strong you are, there comes a time, given your situation, when your strength will be challenged and you will end up losing a battle. Perhaps just admitting defeat is the hardest, for me. But in order to never truly be defeated, one must move on. It's an interesting conundrum. If you have a bad day and cry yourself to sleep, it does not mean that you won't wake up the next morning feeling like a million bucks. In trying to explain the ups and the downs of living here to people who have never lived abroad, yet alone in Asia, its nearly impossible. I can imagine how I sound. Perhaps a few people would say that I'm getting what I signed up for. And perhaps they are right. Who am I to complain when I intentionally sought out this adventure, knowing that consequences and mishaps would indefinitely be part of the deal? Some people are natural explorers who always want to see a new place and see how the rest of the world lives. And its impossible to explain in such a way that the person on the other end is even capable of relating. And if you can't relate to them, what does that even leave? In the absence of a war, I am definitely fighting my own battles here. I have great days and I have terrible days. When the terrible days come, the only thing in the world you want is for the people that you care about to understand and relate to what you're going through. But usually they can't. And even if they claim to understand your predicaments, they could never really understand your exact emotions without going through them themselves. That's when it feels like you've hit a brick wall. I really like China, and enjoy the company of both foreigners and Chinese, but sometimes the veiled animosity among both sides is discomfiting. Awkward. Like trying to strike the perfect balance between the social butterfly and the disengaged loner. Hell, I'd be happy if the Chinese that I work with said hello to me when I walked in the office. Rather, I am greeted without eye contact or smiles and the constant sound of whispers. The sound of whispers spoken in Mandarin, which actually makes me smile. Do they not realize that I still wouldn't have a clue what they were saying if they shouted it to each other? They don't. And it puts a smile on my face.
Night club shenanigans
Our little family at Reggae Bar
The group enjoying a bbq at Bruno and his father's flat
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