Further life and times of *liltayinchina*

 
I just had one of those life-affirming interactions that give me just enough gumption to do things like uproot and move to a foreign country to teach English and learn the language. And I’m not big on adjectives such as “life-affirming” but in this case, the adjective certainly fits and thus I must use it.

I’m really hungry right now, but since the interaction just happened and it is fresh on my mind, I figure I’ve got to get it out “on paper” before doing anything else this evening.

Today was our first day back from the New Year’s holiday. Everyone, especially myself, was feeling under the weather. We foreign teachers were clouding the air with coughs and sniffles and grumbles from feeling really ill even after several days to recuperate. Even though drawing class is one of my favorite parts about my new life, I wasn’t feeling fit enough to sit in the cold and draw for two hours after a long day of teaching so I was planning on coming straight home after Kindergarten today, except, Mom bought one of my Teacher Jiang’s paintings while she was here and since he let me bring it home last Thursday, I felt obligated to pay him today. I didn’t want for him to wait any longer. You see, I know (second-hand at least, thanks to a certain Papa Bear) what it is like to live primarily off of your art and I’m sure it isn’t fun waiting week after week for the payout.

Anyway, I’m getting way off track here. So, after Kindergarten, I made my way to the street, bag lady that I usually am, my school bag full of books and Grade 1 tests slung over my shoulder, a bag full of dirty dishes (breakfast bowls, coffee and tea mugs, chopsticks, etc.) in one hand and a bag carrying my mother’s brand new handmade coat and a banana in the other hand. (Don’t worry Mom, the coat is fabulous and banana-slime free.) I had a small notebook opened to the Chinese characters for the Hubei Art Institute as well as the pinyin for the school and I was practicing what I’d say if I managed to hail a cab.

As usual, it was shift-change and I was expecting a long wait in the cold. I walked East from the school and to a street where I thought I might have some luck. A taxi pulled over for a couple just in front of me and I started scanning the street behind him. Then I noticed the couple getting back out of the taxi. Apparently, their location didn’t jive well with the driver’s plans of heading back to the station in time for shift-change. I hailed him down and he slowed dubiously, preparing for me to say the wrong direction. I told him where I wanted to go and he nodded a subtle, “get in”.

He spoke what seemed to me a very lazy and very pleasant Putong hua or “Correct Chinese language”. I couldn’t understand him at all, but this didn’t seem to faze him since he knew where to drop me off. As we approached the institute, I pulled out my wallet and he hollered gleefully, in Chinese, of course, “You know where we are! You know where we are!” I said that I did, paid him and headed up the alleyway to the abandoned building and up the stairs to find Teacher Jiang and pay him for Mom’s painting.

And this is where my story actually begins but I’m too hungry to go any further. As incentive to finish telling the story, I’m going to post this first part…surely you will complain a lot if it isn’t finished, right?