Like black Cadillacs outside of the funeral

In the past two weeks, many things have happened to me. I have been to the doctor three times, my first trip to a Chinese hospital, had the flu, had an earache, made a new friend, took many, many walks on warm breezy nights, and found American food. I had a ten day break for the Chinese national holiday, during which I drank five bottles of wine and ate nothing for a week but raw pistachios. I was frustrated, bored, and lonely. I wanted to teach. I wanted to make my students come back forcibly, and teach them even if against their will. I missed my students, and I missed teaching, and I became melancholy and moody. I started fights with my boyfriend, I snapped at my mother, I got irritable and complained endlessly to my friends. But the time eventually passed, as it tends to do, and I found Monday morning of my first day back at work coming round. I was very excited. I had come to a few conclusions over the long, lonely lapse in company. I decided that it was my own fault if I didn't have anything to do over the holiday. I had a whole month to make friends, and literally hundreds of girls asking me to do things with them. I had put them off, not because I didn't want to be friends, but because they always asked me after class. After class I was so terribly tired, after four straight hours of jumping and laughing and enthusiasm, and I always feel when class is over that I will never, ever have the energy to do it again. But invariably, a few hours later, I have rested and recuperated, and am ready to do something fun.

Another problem is that they always ask for my phone number so they can call me to set up a date, but I don't have a phone. So I decided that every time someone suggests we should "do something sometime", then I will suggest doing something that very evening, or another evening, and make concrete plans right then and there. I will make friends! I also asked my boyfriend to send me a beginning Chinese textbook, and I resolved to learn as much Chinese as I could, to be able to talk to people and not feel so linguistically isolated. My sister also sent me a little book, Chinese Phrases for Dummies, that has already been quite helpful. In fact, it aided me greatly in making my new friend. I have already communicated such simple ideas as "Hello, how are you?", "Thanks", "I'm an American", and "I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese". So, with my resolutions and my promises, I was very much looking forward to starting my teaching after the holiday. So, obviously, what happens when I wake up Monday morning? I have the fricking flu. There are not words to express how incredibly angry I was about this. I taught my classes on Monday and Tuesday, with absolutely no enjoyment. I had a headache, and the children screamed like banshees. I tried to help them pronounce words, and my head was so congested they understood my speech even less than usual. I played my favorite color game, but I was so tired that the students pulling on my hair and clothes just about knocked me over. It was utterly, completely miserable. In fact, if someone were to ask me, years in the future, "When were you the most miserable in your entire life, and why?", then I would have to answer, "The first two weeks of October, in 2009, because it was hell on Earth (or rather, hell in China)". On Wednesday, I found Flora and told her to cancel my classes for the week, that I was just too sick to lecture. Wednesday morning I had awakened with the sorest throat I have ever had. I thought it was laryngitis at first, because I couldn't speak.



This is actually a funny tangent. I found out I couldn't speak because every morning when I wake up, I narrate my morning. I don't know why I do this, I guess so it feels like there is someone else in my apartment. It goes something like this, "Waking up, freezing cold, okay, get the coughing over with, you goddamn smoker, you're going to kill yourself, you fool. You're starving, do you want to eat? It's too cold. Just lay here a minute. Okay, okay, you have to brush your teeth, get this morning breath out of your mouth. You need to shower. But it's too cold to shower. Just smoke a cigarette, that will wake you up. Where did you put the lighter, where are you always putting the lighter? Why do you just have one lighter? You know you always lose it. You need to buy another lighter. That guy that sold you those eggs likes you." Etc. It will go much like that most mornings. Like I said, I don't know why I do this. So Wednesday I wake up, dreading my day again, and I start talking to myself... and nothing. No sound comes out. My throat hurts terribly, and I try to speak, and nothing. So I thought it was laryngitis for this reason.



So I told Flora I couldn't lecture because of my voice, and she took me to the doctor. He gave me pills and I went home and pretty much slept the rest of the week into oblivion. So on Friday I felt quite a bit better, I went to sleep feeling certain that I would wake up almost totally well. I woke up with an earache. Again, there are not words to describe my anger and frustration. I had been so sure I would be healthy again, and now I had one of the most painful afflictions I know. So I told Flora I had an earache, and she took me to the doctor again, and he gave me more pills. That night, I laid down to sleep, and my eardrum ruptured. I don't know how many people have experienced this, but it is excruciating. Blood and pus come pouring out of my ear onto my pillow (disgusting, I have to wash that now, and my washer is broken). So Flora took me to the hospital across the street. I was afraid. I did not like this hospital. The nurses here wear those old 1950s insane asylum dresses. The stark white dresses, and even that hat with the flappy things on either side of the head. It can be unnerving. My nurse wore a mask over her mouth, so she looked even more terrifying, and she poked cold things inside my ear, and I just knew she was going to poke another hole in my eardrum. I was certain that's what was happening to me. I was so frustrated that all of this was happening, and I couldn't control it. I just spent hours wanting to do something childish, like break something, throw something, hit something, just to feel like I was in control again.



But the time passed, as it tends to do, and Monday morning came around again. I felt a lot better, even though my ear is still draining quite a bit while I sleep (I really need to wash that pillowcase), and so I went to the primary school, and had a wonderful day of teaching second grade. Flora said for a few days I could just teach at the primary school and not at the health school. That is how my new friendship came about. The gatekeeper at the primary school is an old man who tells me every day that I need to learn Chinese. He lives in the little room beside the big gate, and he invites me inside in the mornings after class, because it is so cold. We are both chain smokers, so we sit and smoke cigarettes until the driver is ready. He tries to talk to me, and I have developed a trick. If I simply nod my head, and repeat the last few sounds he made in Chinese, then he feels that I am listening to him and understand. It is amazing. Today we ate these donut things, essentially like deep-fried breadsticks. Five for one RMB, and we shared them and smoked cigarettes, and faux-communicated. He is quickly becoming my best friend here.



Today I felt so much better; I went for a long walk into the busy part of the city. I had only been to this part of the city late at night, drunk. The last time I went there, I drank a bottle of wine and decided to go for a walk, got lost (obviously), and wandered down an ally to find an empty spot to piss. I found myself in familiar territory (luckily). I was on the back ally where the primary school is located, only a few minutes from the health school by car, and I easily found my way home. In the daylight, I came across something wonderful. It was a big red sign over a very tiny shop, and on the sign was none other than a hamburger! A hamburger, a fried chicken leg, and french fries. I felt like I hit the jackpot. American food, right before my eyes. I didn't know how to order, but luckily the woman didn't need me to. She just looked at me and started making me a sandwich. It wasn't a hamburger, it was a chicken sandwich, but it was delicious and tasted just like home (kind of). Every bite I took, I expected to bite into something terrible, but I never did. Pure white meat chicken sandwich bit of mayo, lettuce. I'm starving just thinking about it. Sometimes all it takes to turn your temper around is a good meal.