Whatever the Weather

On Thursday nights I go to play badminton at the gym with some teacher friends. I originally typed ‘indoor gym’, but there was some backspace action, because it really isn’t an indoor gym. It is a building with a roof, but open on the sides. What to call it? The semi-enclosed gym? The indoor-outdoor gym?

The gym has badminton and basketball courts, a small sea of ping pong tables, a jogging track on the 2nd floor, and room for various martial arts classes to distract me with their hyah-ing. I applaud the forethought of having a place to do all these activities when it is raining. As Zhuhai has a semi-tropical climate, it is indeed raining quite a lot here. In the autumn there is always the chance of typhoons and in the spring there is a very distinct rainy season.

Last year I thought one month of torrential rain was bad. I must’ve made the mistake of asking for more patience as it has certainly been tested by the last TWO months of rain. Seriously. The end of rainy season was perhaps dramatically punctuated by an official Red Storm warning and a morning of canceled classes last week. There was one more fitful downpour on Tuesday, but it appears we might have finally cleared the rain. I swear there cannot be a drop of precipitation left up there.

The rain began to feel a bit like a biblical plague. Maybe not 40 straight days and nights, but I think we got pretty close. Those of us not used to such weather might have been tempted to go hunt down the disobedient Jonah causing all this bad weather and send him down the overflowing storm drain to his “Ninevah” or large water-based mammal. Whichever he/she encountered first.

So, again, it is great to be able to play your sport of choice regardless of rain or no rain. However. HOWEVER. However. I don’t understand having an open-air gym in a climate that at least 6 months out of the year has temperatures over 80 degrees and humidity of equal or greater percentage.

With the end of the rain, the temperature just keeps climbing. Though I greatly enjoy my badminton Thursday nights, the “gym” is the next closest thing to the Inferno itself. Two hours of vigorous badminton leave me absolutely dripping. No, this is not hyperbole. Full on streams running down my face and back. I didn’t know this was actually possible. I thought this state could only be achieved by people in Gatorade commercials. Oh, no! You too can experience this novel state in picturesque southern China! Swim in the seas of . . . your own sweat?

High temperatures and impending rain have also resulted in another intriguing “plague” on several occasions. Shortly before the rain would begin, small winged insects—“locusts”—would appear out of nowhere and blanket the gym. One second you’re playing badminton and the next you’re dancing around like a fool swinging your racket ineffectively at the bugs all around you and on you. On your shirt, on your pants, sticking to your sweaty arms, getting IN YOUR HAIR! Ugh! Ugh! UGH! It’s enough to make you throw down your racket –no, wait, I can’t throw down my racket because it’s not mine. Okay, it’s enough to make you throw up your arms—no, can’t do that either because then I’ll get bugs there, too! Fine, it’s enough to make you run away, screaming, into the night. That I can do. Maybe no screaming and maybe not full-on running, but on those buggy occasions I certainly did high-tail it out of there. And my colleagues were not far behind.

Speaking of plagues, have I mentioned the frogs? More to come . . .

(Another) Weather Lament

Zhuhai is making me British. British in the sense that I talk about the weather constantly. And just like the Brits, I have just cause because the weather is positively neurotic here. The signals are all switched. What I expect and what I get rarely correspond. Overcast does not mean cool. Rain does not break the humidity. Big winds do not herald storms. Just because it was cool yesterday does not mean it will be cool today. I suppose the California climate spoiled me.

This week took the cake. It started out positively halcyon—beautiful fall weather. I wore cardigans and slacks and was perfectly comfortably. Mid-week—BAM! Humidity leaps back to astronomical heights. Everything in my closet feels damp. No matter what I wear I am a soggy mess in 10 seconds flat.

Friday morning I was so irritated at my students sitting in class with long-sleeve pseudo-leather jackets and skin-tight skins when I’m suffering in a knee-length skirt and the coolest top-shrug combo I could find in my closet. It’s like 8:30 in the morning, yes? I’m dripping. DRIPPING, people. Wipe face. Fan face. Wipe face. Fan face. “Okay, is it just me or does anyone else want to throw themselves in the swimming pool right now?” It took a bit of explanation—that type of question is more than some students can handle—but eventually the class cried “YES!” (Yes, but then why on earth are you wearing what you’re wearing right now?!?!) Nice to know it’s not just me.

Sometimes I really do think it’s just me. The humidity is hard for me; it’s my least favorite thing about living here. Yet many people seem perfectly comfortable, so I know not every ear is sympathetic to my weather laments. But when I reach the level of discomfort I felt Thursday and Friday, I need to reassure myself that I’m not crazy by asking other people if they’re also feeling it.

Saturday was more of the same. I was dressing to go to an outdoor BBQ and no matter what I tried on I felt terrible. Too tight. Too long. Too thick. Realizing it was hopeless because we were going to be outside anyways, I settled on something very unfashionable but loose and breathable. And I still felt disgusting–on several levels–all day. I came home, showered, and parked in front of the air conditioning for the rest of the night.

And today? After three days of miserable humidity and high temperatures? It’s cool. Almost cold. Overnight it becomes fall weather again. I might actually need to get up and close the sliding door because it’s getting a little chilly in here. My legs have goosebumps.

See what I mean?

My Sole Complaint

This week has been a hard one, specifically for my feet. At the moment I have band aids on the back of both ankles, around several toes and scabs across the top of my foot. I have struggled to find anything reasonably professional that does not rub any of my injured areas to wear to class. So I’ve mostly been wearing flip-flops.

I was very careful choosing footwear to bring back to China this time. I understood that I needed extremely comfortable, breathable, yet sturdy and supportive shoes. I needed shoes for teaching. I needed shoes for traveling. I needed shoes for typhoon season. I thought that I brought appropriate footwear for all these specific needs. And yet, one after another, my “perfect” shoes are failing me miserably.

Though I’d made sure to get shoes with plenty of extra room for when the humidity makes my feet swell, apparently it still wasn’t enough. A quick trip out in one particular pair left me with blisters on both ankles. Something about the design of my walking sandals always results in my heel being half-on, half-off the sole. My Crocs that I bought for when it rains are rubbing my toes, leaving me in agony as I mince the whole way from my teaching building to my apartment.

The only reliable footwear I have is my flip-flops. Which everyone says is the worst kind of footwear. What on earth is wrong with my feet? Is it my feet? Or is China trying to tell me something?

Humidity! It’ll be the death of me! Can I get a witness? Anyone? Please?

Traveling Solo – Part II

So where were we? Ah, yes.

My first day consisted of moping around the hostel. I couldn’t check in until later. I couldn’t swim. This was not the vacation I had in mind. It’s all very nice if you’re staying at a resort and can turn on the AC and the TV, but I was at a no-frills hostel waiting out the rain with like 30 other people in a very small common area. I small talked with other travelers. Lots of other English teachers from China on holiday as well. Lots of oh-my-god-last-night-was-so-crazy stories being exchanged. When there was a break in the rain, I escaped down to the beach to have a look around. Everything pretty wild: waves, wind, and clouds. I was consoling myself at Starbucks when it started raining like crazy again. Sigh. The rest of the day was much like this.

I spent the first three days mostly walking up and down the windy beach, trying to take photos when possible, drinking lots of coffee, eating foods that I couldn’t get in China. I went shopping. At night I strolled the beach and listened to some of the live bands, one of which I really enjoyed. It was okay, but there was this strong sense that I was just killing time. I didn’t feel like I was really enjoying myself and was anxiously contemplating the hours until I could get on a plane outta there. It’s sad, but true. I didn’t make any strong connections with other travelers at the hostel initially.

On my third night, I met up with a Filipino girl who’d contacted me through Couch Surfing. I was thrilled at the prospect of not being alone for an evening. She and several of her friends were in Boracay for the weekend and we planned to spend the evening together. Finally, I had a satisfying evening with good conversation and great people. I woke up in the morning feeling much better about my trip.

My final day was sunny and beautiful. I spent the morning at the beach and in the afternoon went out on a catamaran with another girl from the hostel. I think boats are so invigorating. Love that whole wind-in-your-hair business. One of my life goals is to learn how to sail. Really. We snorkeled a bit. Getting back on the boat, I was taking down my hair, only to feel something sharp and moving in it. Somehow a little crab had gotten into my hair. The boat guy helped me get it out and then we raced back to the shore.

That evening I failed to connect up with the girl from the evening before and was feeling disappointed. I’d flopped on my bed in the hostel, trying to convince myself to go out again, when this fantastic Korean girl entered my evening. She’d come to Boracay with a guy who was interested in her, but she didn’t reciprocate his interest. Dreading another evening of just the two of them, she invited me along as a sort of buffer. I very quickly agreed. So we drank some strange Korean wine, talked, and passed the evening quite nicely.

In the morning, the three of us went and had a great breakfast at a local restaurant. Then the girl and I packed our bags and headed off. She helped me get onto the correct boat and heading the correct airport. She was so kind and I was so grateful. We exchanged contact info and said goodbye.

The rest of the trip was spent pacing airports, lolling in waiting areas, drinking coffee, and killing time. After a delayed flight back to Macau, I arrived back at the university sometime after midnight.

In retrospect, I am glad that I went. The weather was unfortunate, but normal for this time of year. Though the first few days were rather lousy, at least I had several good experiences to balance it out.

I had a classmate in grad school who loved to travel alone. She only traveled alone. I was astonished and could never imagine myself doing it. Well, I’ve done it and survived. Worst parts? Eating alone in restaurants, having no one to take photos of you, and no one to watch your stuff when you want to swim. Best parts? I suppose you are extremely grateful when you do make a connection with someone. My journal from the trip is a record of the emotional highs and lows of those 5 days.

As I tell my students, the most interesting trips are often the ones that don’t go according to plan. And they make great stories, too.

Traveling Solo

I’d like to give a report on my first solo trip, as mentioned in a previous post. For the National Holiday week, I booked a 5 day trip to Boracay, an island in the Philippines which is famous for its White Beach. One of the top beach destinations in Asia, so I’m told. I’d really wanted to travel during this holiday for several reasons: (1) It’s a rather long holiday to stay home; (2) I wanted to see more of Asia; and (3) I promised myself last year that I’d travel this week. So though my funds were limited and I couldn’t find anyone to travel with, off I went.

My flight left from Macau. I chose Macau because I can take public transportation all the way from my university to the airport there. If I go to Hong Kong airport, the ferry ticket is a little steep; and if I go to Guangzhou, it would actually be a much longer trip, with changing between buses, trains, and subways. Since Macau is a Special Autonomous Region, that means you have to exit China and enter, uh, another part of China. So a stamp out of China and a stamp into Macau, with forms to be completed on each side. I’d feared the lines would be epic due to the holiday, but I actually made it through in good time and caught my airport bus with no problems. (Traveling alone, there’s so much mental checklisting going on: bus to Macau, check; immigration, check; money exchange, check; bus to airport, check; arrival at airport, first mission accomplished. Penguin high five to self.)

The Macau airport was compact, but stocked with all the essentials, like Gloria Jean’s Coffee. I had lots of time to kill due to excessive planning-for-the-worst-case-scenario. So I sat and sipped and read books on the Kindle. When I went through Security, my eyebrow tweezers pinged on the bag check and I apologized, expecting them to confiscate them (Rats, I thought, my favorite tweezers!), but surprisingly they said it was okay and sent me on my way. This trip also marked a landmark accomplishment for me. Not only did I travel solo, but I also brought only a carry-on. Gasp! First time in my life I’ve managed to do this.

Flight to Manila was fine. The layover was not so fine. I actually attempted sleeping across 3 chairs. It was horrible. I paid what seemed an excessive amount of money to be able to sit in another coffee shop with comfortable chairs. I was very grateful to board the flight to Boracay.

We landed in Boracay in a very jungle-ish environment. I’d asked my hostel to help me with transportation because it seemed a little complicated, so a nice young guy was waiting for me outside. We look a giant tricycle down to the ferry port, a boat across to Boracay island (impossible to land on the island itself), then another tricycle, and finally a brief walk down a very muddy lane to the hostel. The sky wasn’t looking so good and I’d only been in the hostel maybe 30 minutes before it started pouring. And I mean pouring.

Will the rain ruin her trip? Will she survive her first solo adventure? Stay tuned!

Hong Kong: Second Time’s the Charm

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I went to Hong Kong for only the second time last weekend.

My first visit to Hong Kong was on Christmas weekend. Yes, the actual Christmas weekend. And while the visit on the whole was good, the number of people in the city made everything more difficult. I remember fighting up this terrible street in Kowloon, trying to get to the ferry station. Literally fighting. I felt like a salmon swimming upstream. But when the real salmon do that they have safety in numbers. There were only 3 of us in this scenario. And of course when we arrived at the ferry station there were no tickets back to Zhuhai for hours, which was our fault for not reserving them ahead of time. We squeezed into the back table of a Starbucks and didn’t move until it was time to go.

And of course food had been quite expensive as well. Christmas Eve we were wandering the city in search of an affordable meal and finally found a tiny noodle house. Outside a large group of students were singing Christmas carols as we slurped our noodles. Christmas morning we stumbled on an underground Irish pub for breakfast. Not very cheap, but Christmas breakfast is a Van Gundy family tradition and I felt that I was honoring my own Christmas traditions by indulging in a large British breakfast.

(Perhaps it will amuse you to tell you that we then went and saw Mission Impossible IV. Well, it was either that or go shopping. I astounded my students by telling them that I went to Hong Kong and didn’t buy anything. In their eyes that is the entire purpose of Hong Kong.)

And our hotel on that trip. Wow. Hong Kong currently takes the cake for most deceptive Internet photos. Our hotel was supposed to be a reasonable looking room with 3 beds and our own bathroom. What we got was a closet-sized room with bunk beds, thread-bare linens, and soggy shared bathroom down the hall. For the rock-bottom price of 975 HKD. Outraged? A bit. Leaving Hong Kong, my feelings were somewhere along the lines of “good riddance”.

However.

I knew that we’d chosen to visit Hong Kong on a quite significant weekend, where crowds, high costs, and general inconvenience should’ve been expected. So, though that trip had been a bit of a challenge, I wanted to give Hong Kong another chance in the spring. And after having done so I can happily report that that was a wise decision. I had a great time last weekend.

Saturday we went to Lantau Island. Though we were disappointed to hear that the cable cars were not running, it may have been a blessing in disguise as the bus ride around the island was gorgeous. We went to Ngong Ping to see the Big Buddha and the temple around it. Endless mirth because the infamous university orientation game “Big Booty” was quickly supplanted by “Big Buddha” and I had a hard time not breaking out into the chant as we circled the Buddha. Also some flashbacks to the terribly irreverent “Buddha’s Delight” song used in the movie Music & Lyrics. We had lunch in the vegetarian restaurant on-site and then explored some of the trails leading off into the hills. The hills were green, the skies blue, weather balmy. A truly excellent excursion.

The following day we went to Stanley Market on the south side of Hong Kong Island. Another gorgeous drive hugging the coastline which felt positively Californian. It could’ve been Highway 1, possibly even prettier at points. The bus deposited us at the market and we were promptly delighted by the market’s offerings. We made an initial circuit and popped out on the harbor. I was glad we’d passed up the nice, but chain-y looking café we saw in the market as there were several lovely waterfront cafes there. We hadn’t “broken our fast” yet so I was very inclined to treat ourselves to a wonderful breakfast with a fantastic view. So we did.

After breakfast we roamed the market. Suddenly everywhere I looked there were things I wanted to buy. Zhuhai has been a shopping famine for me other than food and bootleg DVDs. So I feasted a bit in Stanley. I bought some linen clothes in preparation for the coming heat. A new colorful, but sturdy bag. A scarf. It was fun.

Unfortunately soon the clock was tolling for us. Not 12, but half past 2. We’d booked tickets on the 4:30 ferry to prevent the problem we’d had last trip. We scurried back to the bus stop, multiple shopping bags each, for the beautiful drive back. After some intense power walking we made it to the ferry office to reclaim our tickets on time and just had time for iced coffee (with real cream!).

The biggest surprise of the trip was just how beautiful Lantau and Central were! Nothing like what I’d expected. Hong Kong had taken on grimy, urban tones in my mind based on the first trip. Kowloon was not that different really from Zhuhai; everything was just on a somewhat larger scale. But the coastline—wow! Already contemplating my next trip.

It’s a Jungle Out There

I turned on my air conditioner today. That feels momentous. March 6th—Day One of Air Conditioning.

More momentous is that I turned it on shortly after 7 AM. Waking up today everything felt slightly damp and sticky: bath towels, kitchen towels, even supposedly clean clothes straight from the closet. Bathroom floor is still wet from my shower the night before. Even the dust bunnies are damp, as evidenced by the way they clump together and then stick to the broom. And this isn’t just today. It’s been like this for awhile.

I taught my 8:00 to 9:35 AM class, walked back, and took a cold shower. I see many more in my future.

Here We Go Again

Two old friends made an appearance this week. They haven’t been around for awhile, but not long enough that I’m pleased to have them back. They would be Heat and, even worse, Humidity.

September was a misery. I had never experienced humidity such as Zhuhai offers. When I was at university in southern California, the slight increase in humidity from the bone-dry heat of home seemed cause for complaint. Zhuhai was a level of discomfort previously unknown or even imagined. The heat took my breath away. I soon stopped turning my air-conditioner off, even when I left the apartment. It took too long for the room to cool down again otherwise.

October brought typhoons and their torrential rains. I waded to class on several occasions, pant legs wet to mid-thigh. The morning would be suffocatingly hot. Eight o’clock in the morning. Sweat rolling down my face. And then the rain would begin. Hot and wet. Those are always the words students use to describe our local climate.

Beginning mid-November the weather began to cool, for which I was terribly grateful. I could walk to class and not be a sweaty mess when I arrived, though it still didn’t take much for me to feel overheated. Scarves were a possibility. I enjoyed wearing a blazer I’d brought. Intermittent rain.

December and January the temperatures dipped. Teachers who’ve been here warned us that though the temperatures would not be that low, it would feel very, very cold. Especially inside. And they were right. My room was like stepping into a refrigerator. I bought a space heater to which I would rotate my feet to track with its oscillation. I bought a hot water bottle for my feet at night. I bought a throw blanket for sitting at my desk.

But all this only for my room. Temperatures outside didn’t require near so much. I could still be hot when teaching lessons, though none of the classrooms are heated. Southern China gets air-conditioners; northern China gets heaters. No, you can’t have both.

My vacation for Chinese New Year allowed me to experience some different climates: the pleasant warmth of Hainan and the brisk, biting cold of Shanghai. The day I returned to Guangdong the temperature was 25 degrees Celsius, a shock, but the next day a cold front moved in again.

Through these somewhat cooler months the thought always in the back of my mind was that this was temporary. Students always tell me that Zhuhai doesn’t have four seasons, but two. Summer and winter. And winter is always very short. So though I was sometimes tempted to complain about the cold, most complaints were not voiced. The cold was such a welcome surcease.

Wednesday morning the view from my window was overcast. Interpreting this to mean cooler temperatures I pulled out a long-sleeve sweater, scarf and blazer and layered nylons under my slacks. Yet a few minutes outside and I realized that this was not cold overcast. This was the humid overcast, especially of October. Uncomfortably hot on the way to class, I pulled off my blazer and rolled up my sleeves. Everything already sticking uncomfortably to my skin. In my classroom I pulled out tissues to blot my perspiring face and flapped my pant legs to get some circulation. As the sweat dripped down my back, seeming to collect in the hollow, and trailed down to my waistband to leave little chalky indicators in testament to the day’s heat, I bit back a groan. It would appear that summer is back in town, along with those two old friends of mine.

Chinese Snowbirds

Wanting to escape the chilly temperatures of Zhuhai, while not leaving China, we decided to spend the first week or so of our vacation on the island of Hainan. As Hawaii and Florida are to the United States, so Hainan is to China. Snowbirds from all over China flock to Hainan in the wintertime. While Sarah and I can’t really consider ourselves “snowbirds” as there is no snow in Zhuhai, we are nevertheless refugees from our cold, damp, unheated apartments.

As my earlier comparison would suggest, Hainan is being billed as the “Hawaii” of China, a way to lure tourists and investors south. To be honest, the scheme seems to be working, though of course not without some kinks.

Hainan is lovely in a rugged, dirty sort of way. It’s still China. You can’t escape that. I suppose I was somewhat disappointed at first. The streets are terrible. The public transportation is worse. It certainly smells like China, a weird mixture of gasoline, cigarettes, and the smell that I am never really sure whether its sewage or stinky tofu. Disturbing, nonetheless.

With any tropical island, the beaches are, of course, of primary importance. They’re the main reason I came to Hainan. On the plus side, the beach is all of 2 blocks away from our hostel. It’s sandy and clean, lined with restaurants and palm trees. The water temperature is pleasant, not as cold as home, but nowhere near as warm as Hawaii. On the down side, the beach is relatively crowded. This is high season, as we knew coming in, so this should not surprise us, but it does make things much less enjoyable. Especially when you have children running inches from your head or sand being thrown onto your dozing person.

But what disappointed me the most was the complete absence of any waves! The Hainan beach features only ankles waves, sufficient for the amusement of shrieking children, but not so much for me. I’d imagined great waves when I thought of Hainan, of boogie-boarding or at least diving through them. Hainan is also supposed to have some good surfing which also presupposes the availability of good waves. Dismay was my first emotion when I saw the beach. “Where are the waves?!” I cried to Sarah. As a result, I haven’t actually spent that much time in the water. I usually paddle around in the still still water and then get out after a few minutes. So the beach is being used mostly for sunbathing, reading, and studying Chinese.

As a small aside of interest to the linguistically inclined, the area Sarah and I are staying in is called Dadonghai. The island itself is called Hainan. “Hai” is the same character as the “hai” in Zhuhai—“hai” means sea. Dadonghai means “big east sea” and Hainan means “south sea”. I get little shivers of happiness when I figure out those sorts of things. Don’t you?

What is interesting about Dadonghai is that it is an area that caters primarily to Russian tourists. That’s right—Russian tourists. Now, we’d read about this before coming, but didn’t quite realize how accurate this was. The majority of the signs in Dadonghai are in Russian and Chinese. The menus are in Russian and Chinese. Salespeople on the street talk to Sarah and I in Russian.

We’re not really sure how long this has been going on. Obviously for awhile when you see all the things that have been done to make it convenient for them to come here. We wondered about the political angle. Former USSR and current People’s Republic? When we finally met some Russians at our hostel we had to ask. The curiosity was killing me.

The answer was not what I was hoping for. Apparently for this family, who lives in eastern Russian, near the Sea of Japan, Hainan is quite close. Yes, but what about people from Moscow and St. Petersburg? They still didn’t seem to think it was that far to come. Isn’t Spain and the Mediterranean much closer and more convenient? Eh. Shoulder shrug from the Russians. I was nonplussed to say the least. Who on earth was the first Russian to discover Hainan and start this migratory pattern? We haven’t gotten to the bottom of this yet!

Nevertheless the image that stays with me, that makes me ponder the tourism industry and the lengths people will go to attract customers was the sight of Chinese people speaking Russian. One of those take-your-world-ideas-and-gently-shake-them moments.

Typhoon Season

According to some people it is typhoon season.

I say “according to” because as soon as I learn some piece of information, file it away mentally, and then mention it to someone else, it is then contradicted. In this specific case, both people have lived in this area for a number of years. Who to believe? I don’t know.

Regardless it’s been raining off and on. And I do mean off and on quite literally. One minute completely dry. The next completely drenched.

About two weeks ago there were a few typhoon/tropical storms passing through the area. They rumbled by China and then went on do some major damage in the Philippines. On the most memorable day for me it began raining just before I had to go to class. Though I had an umbrella and boots I was soaked to about mid-thigh by the time I got to class. My students were in similar if not worse condition. I had bought an umbrella just that morning after another downpour episode that fortuitously happened when I was in class.

The typhoons moved on and it’s been relatively cool and dry for the last week or so. Yesterday I felt a few raindrops as I was coming back from class, but didn’t think anything of it. The next time I looked about my window before going to my night class, it was absolutely pouring. Again.

Nothing for it. Though I tried walking on my toes for awhile, I was soaked within a few mintues and just gave up. Just have to slosh throught the streets in inches of water. If I didn’t have to go to class, it could actually be fun. The students in shorts and flip-flops are well dressed for this weather. Me in my teacher apparel, much less so.