"I Hope You Can Survival Here" - Part One

After departing the airport, I tossed and turned sans seatbelt in the backseat of a tobacco scented car for close to 3 hours.  Before you criticize my lack of safety precaution, please note that I tried to buckle my seat-belt as soon as I got into the car.  Richard and the driver found this quite humorous and had a hearty laugh as the driver careened through traffic, selectively obeying laws and signals.  There were stops at toll booths and gas stations, and I spent most of the drive in that weird stage between sleeping and waking.  Eventually, we turned down an alley, the car parked, and a gust of cool air accosted me as Richard opened my door.  As my eyes opened and I labored to remember where I was, he haltingly announced, "Reese.  We.  Are.  Here."

(The alleyway to my "hotel" ... and a tile store.)

Welcome home ... also known as Pei Miao ... also known as that place that Richard said has had some problems.  (It is classified as an "executive hotel," but it's the kind of "hotel" that lets "executives" rent rooms by the hour.  You might liken it to a neglected motel.)

Still half asleep and completely overwhelmed by the time difference, I stagger forward with my carry-on while my bags are lugged into the lobby.  For a second, I flash back to "The Shining" ... the lobby is large and the floors look like off-white marble, but the hotel feels like it should not be open to guests.  All of the lobby furniture (mainly awkwardly shaped sofas) have been wedged into the far left corner and covered with white linens, clearly past their prime.  There is a mountain of cardboard boxes next to a mostly empty wall of built-in bookshelves.  Near the furniture grave yard is a dark passage-way littered with a ladder and other hints of construction and manual labor.  The barren floors blind me as I stare about, confused and off center.

Suddenly, luggage is moving and the elevator doors open.  I follow my two non-conversant chaperones into the elevator's fluorescent glow and we alight to the 3rd floor.  We are greeted by dark tile floors, a wall of musty drapes to the left, and dirty wall paper and reddish brown doors to the right.  Our procession halts and Richard fumbles with the door key as I stare blankly.  The door to our right opens, and we are greeted by Kathryn, the 50-ish Canadian teacher who is to be my neighbor and co-worker.  She hands me a map of the town that is all in Chinese, as she and Richard exchange pleasantries.  I muster up the energy to say hello, but hardly understand what is being said and return to staring at the wall.

Soon, I am being led into the room.  Greeted by the distinct odor of mildew, I step through the threshold and move at the speed of molasses while Richard flits about me.  Soon, the television is blaring in Chinese, the bathroom faucets are running full bore, and Richard is rattling off advice and directions.  He points to places on the Chinese map, he makes me go into the bathroom to run my hand beneath the faucet and confirm that it is indeed hot water, and he dispenses with a litany information as I stare blankly at my new home, sleep deprived and disoriented.

"Please please stop talking, turn off the television and the water, and let me sleep," I psychically beg.

Though the message wasn't quite received, Richard and the stoic driver do eventually depart ... leaving a screaming television and "hot" running water as evidence of their presence.  After taking an embarrassingly long time to shut off the tv, I climb into my rock-hard bed and sleep.

I am in China.

In a few hours the sun will rise on the first day of my life in the Middle Kingdom, and I am going to need all of the energy I can get -- and then some.