The Grass is Always Less Hazardous on the Other Side: I’m Cheating on China in my Head Again
For the second Monday in a row, Shanghai’s air has been deemed unfit for human consumption.
Yesterday was declared hazardous, but I was in Nanjing, breathing in their particular combination of hazy chemicals. Maybe it was the kids I was testing, or maybe it was the air, but I came away from that weekend with my brain full of disjointed half-remembered comments about Van Gogh painting scenes from WWII and chickens being a favoured room in one’s home.
I was stuck at the Nanjing railway station for several hours on Sunday afternoon, due to work finishing much sooner than expected. My ticket was for 6 pm but we got there by 3pm. Usually you can go to the ticket hall and swap your ticket for an earlier train, but after half an hour in the hot, noisy, claustrophobic queue, elbowing furtive queue jumpers, I learned everything to everywhere was sold out.
If you’ve ever been to a Chinese railway station, you’ll know that unless you hold soft-seat tickets or are skilled at blagging your way into the VIP lounge (it helps to be a white man in a suit), your best bet for a pleasant 3 hour wait is not in the station itself. In fact, there was a 30+ minute queue just to enter the station, as they’ve decided to suddenly start enforcing ID checks for passengers, a year after they started making people show their ID to buy the tickets at the booking offices. Foreigners bearing passports along with their tickets were given only a cursory glance (apparently we don’t fake our tickets) still had to queue alongside the migrant workers and other locals whose ID cards were scrutinized at length.
When I finally made my way into the station a few hours later, the only seat I could find was a ledge at the side of the Gate 2 Waiting Room, with my back against the glass wall of a fast food place. I should also note that this spot was probably free because on the other side of the glass was the restaurant’s collection of garbage cans. The glass on that side was sopping wet and streaked and drippy with all sorts of textured, oddly hued, greasy wetness. If you looked out of the corner of your eyes, you’d swear you were leaning back into a toxic waste spill. Every few minutes, new greasy, lumpy water was sloshed at the glass as the cleaner in the restaurant emptied out some new pail of awfulness.
It was that fun, yes.
So for the first few hours, I waited down by the lake, opposite the station. It was also so crowded that every available place to sit was occupied, and then some. Road block pilons, steps, curbs, the whole walking path itself, as well as actual benches were all occupied by Chinese bums. The buttock type, not hobos.
I finally found a seat on the welcome mat of a closed-Sundays police kiosk, several levels removed from the actual scenic part of the lake front. I got to watch scooters drive past, narrowly avoiding hitting people. Also, in addition to scooter fumes, I got to breathe in the fresh, clean air of Nanjing.
You know, this air. The air you can see. Hazy, grey, with just a hint of sepia for the artsy touch.
My view from my hotel room Sunday morning was 32 floors of white-out.
Shanghai, this morning, wasn’t a white out but it has been officially deemed Unhealthy since 8am. I’m debating when to go out and buy much needed groceries. Should I wait for it to be Unhealthy for Sensitive Types? What if it just gets worse, as it did last Monday? Is there any point in doing a 30 day detox diet if you’re going out to buy your pesticide laden veggies, whilst breathing in Hazardous air?
It makes me think about the life I lead in Shanghai. Since I stopped drinking alcohol (temporarily, but still, stopped) and started the low-key but strict detox (no dairy, no sugar, no grain, no processed crap), I’ve come to realize that 79.3% of our diversions here are related to food, drink or food and drink. The other diversions include reading in bed, blogging about mops, and watching downloaded episodes of Fringe. Non-diversionary time is spent working. You know, those 3 jobs. The jobs I kept piling on because I got it into my head a few years ago that I needed to save money. For something. Not sure what, but something all the same.
Without the distractions of lovely chatty long lunches over wine (which are now slightly less exuberant, with soda water and a rumbly tummy) or comfortingly easy pizza deliveries on late work nights, I feel strangely dissatisfied. Is this the sum of my life here, if you take away a few happy carbohydrates and some fermented grapes? Work and mops. Travel twice a year. Too tired to write anything interesting or new. Too distracted to hone new skills. Too lazy to make an effort to find a nice big green park to exercise in (Fuxing Park doesn’t count as it’s still smoggy and small). Too uninspired to go out at night and do night-type things.
My brain has started cheating on Shanghai, seriously contemplating other options.
This morning I started looking up short term flat rentals in Cork. Last week, I had pages open for Mexico, Morocco, Myanmar, and Belize. I wondered if I had enough money saved up to buy a house in Sicily. Hell, if Ebriel could do it, maybe we should too. I have scoured the internet for courses to take- cooking, art, writing, language. Wracked my brain for sources of inspiration. Something to pull things out of this rather restrictive view I’ve installed over the past few years here.
Maybe it’s seasonal. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and feeling a lot less tolerant of stasis and stagnation. Dunno. All I know is that I’m feeling very ready to catch a taxi out to the airport and do something completely different.
I’m open to suggestions.
Eyeing house porn is one of my favorite recreational activities. But beware it can lead to impulsive decisions. It’s good to do it with a near-empty bank account (which describes mine, most of the time). Last night I was eyeing houseboats all over the UK and a little church in Wales for 30K pounds, or studio flats in Palermo for under 50K euro.
They say that buying a house is fundamentally an emotional decision. For me it was to have somewhere to retreat mentally – and once a year physically – when life in Asian cities became too much. There’s a flip side, of course: the maintenance and restoration headaches, but the first step was the hardest, and the most fun too.
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I’m big on house porn too. For the last year or so I was in Istanbul, I kept meridahomes.com open on my desktop, ready to seduce me with Yucatan orange groves and town homes with courtyards and painted tiles.
I’d love a home, a retreat. Our current flat is leased on a year to year basis because that’s what our landlord wants. This means that from February onward, we’re stressed about possibly having to move come May, but we don’t find out until April. I like moving and I like change but oh, I really need a base of my own to tether me just a bit. Somewhere to put all my pretty things so I don’t have to leave them all behind again.
It’s probably seasonal. A few months ago I was convinced that all I wanted to do in life was move to Denver and start an urban farm. I even started vaguely planning that when I went on maternity leave from Kyrgyzstan, maybe I just shouldn’t come back. Now? I’ve over-hyped the thought of living in the US for the next three months so much that I’m completely over it, contemplating spending another year or two in Bishkek. Once the idea really sticks for a couple months, then it’s probably the real deal. If you want a dose of grass-is-not-greener, maybe come experience a sad Soviet winter and visit me in Bishkek in February? (although, I do have an indoor heated pool and a sauna)
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You’re right. I entertained thoughts of starting up a goat farm (cheese!) in northern BC for quite a while in my 2nd year here. It seemed infinitely better than teaching bored teens in an unheated, abandoned university annex. But then reality snuck in and I started remembering all the things that drove me nuts about living back home, especially in the small town and rural bits like where I grew up… the trees are fabulous but the lifestyle is a bit, well, restrictive.
Bishkek in February is tempting 😉
Sicily. I vote for Sicily! After what you went through in Morocco, I can’t believe you’d even consider it. I wouldn’t. 🙂
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Essaouira! We seriously thought hard about doing a short term flat rental there and just settling down for a few months of quiet seaside life.
But yeah, Sicily…
Sicily–then you could short trips to Morocco and other places..Sicily!
Don’t tempt me…
Sounds like our life in China before we left. And our life in Saigon. Half of every wknd spent in an alcoholic haze, the rest of the time cooking, eating or running on a treadmill at the club. No life.
Living in Asia requires breaks, I’m convinced. We’re currently casting abt for that “other” place. It must have what Malaysia doesn’t — green open space, seasons, a wine and booze culture, swiss chard and fennel. Trolling property websites is a fave procastination device.
Those are pretty much the things I’m craving too, along with the option of cozy pubs and cafes and good cheese. Kinda the opposite of China, really.
Cheese, good bars/pubs and cafes goes without saying. How about good coffee? That too please. And it must be dog friendly. And foreigner friendly. No rabid xenophobes. Oh — and affordable.
And not the USA (I think.)
Do you think I’m asking too much?
Yes to the coffee. We do get that here though. It’s not cheap but it’s very much available. Yay!
And no, you aren’t asking for too much. At the moment, I don’t think I’m asking for enough.
Robyn, friends in Sicily tell me that locals in town pluck fennel from the roadside…
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Yes, Italy was on our radar. A little farmhouse in Piemonte, we were even so far as checking out property in agent windows in Nizza Monferato. Then the winter Olympics happened. He who hesitates….
wow, just got back from Shanghai (and several other places in China) and my first thought was, this seems so much easier and better than India, I could live here for a year. But I was on a food tour (just proving your point about food) and staying in very nice hotels and eating at Dragonwell Manor. So life was very good.
When we wanted a break from India we ended up in Australia. I think Tasmania has the fantastic air and water that you might love. Lots of space.
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I totally agree that it’s easier than India! When we moved here from Turkey, I marvelled at how much easier it was than, say, Istanbul.
I think the thing for me here isn’t that it’s difficult (it isn’t) but rather that it’s exhausting. On a daily basis, too many crowds, too much rushing, not enough calm. And the pollution. And the fact that it’s really hard to make good friends here, especially with locals (they’re too busy trying to earn a living).
Passing through on a food tour would be AMAZING. Because, well, the food here is one of the things keeping us here…
Living some place is really such a different thing to visiting. It is good to read this since there is a good chance we will end up in China for a year. I’m in Johannesburg right now, and I can find some good things about it, but I’m not in love. I love pubs and cafes and good cheese too. Melbourne is pretty fantastic on those.
In Chengdu we went to a park with a teahouse and sat around and had tea, massage, shoe cleaning and ear cleaning – it was very relaxing. Also we had a great foot massage, which was also very relaxing. I hear you on the exhausting.
How about spending a wkend in Suzhou or Hangzhou?
but yeah, the traffic of Shanghai, the scale of everything, the number of people, and the pollution – those would get to me. but I sure do envy your subway. Joburg is horrible for public transit.
I actually go away for work 2 or 3 weekends a month (which may account for my burnout…), to Nanjing, Hangzhou and Hefei, and occasionally further afield to Zhengzhou or Fuzhou. When I do have a free weekend, I tend to want to hibernate. Even going to HZ can be exhausting- there are crowds there too, and getting around can be frustrating (taxis are rare, no metro, only know a few bus routes). I kind of wish we had, say, a quiet, unpopulated version of West Lake here in Shanghai that I could retreat to…
Also- I used to live in Cape Town, back when the public buses and the private mini buses were at war (literally)… there were shootings, if I remember correctly. Not a great incentive to use the bus.
Moving to Italy sounds amazing but you’ll have to put the detox to bed. I mean, just think of all that beautiful cheese! And pasta! And wine!!!
Now go have some xiao long bao and a beer and turn this thing around!
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Fear not, the detox is only for 30 days. After that, I’m back to beer and cheese and xiao long bao!
I love your blog , I loved the first one I read , the picture book one about mops , and I love this one even more since getting out of China (Urumqi one year and Shanghai 6 months). I’m back here , behind you , where I started looking for a TEFL job two years ago in Poland ( and found the silk road , Kayeseri , Diyarbakir and China.) “Come to Poland! I shouted.” It’s a peaceful and gentle and if you like listening to the world , the planet , the music , then you can do that too .
The air in Guangzhou has been really bad lately. ‘Tis the season, I guess.
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I love your blog. You are a good writer. BTW: The grass is greener on the other side. I live in Japan and have been thinking about moving to Shanghai after reading your posts. I’m a teacher as well.
Hi! And thanks! Indeed, the grass is always greener, isn’t it? Shanghai’s definitely an interesting place to live but it takes a lot of adjustments to make it work. I think I really only got the hang of it after a few years of floundering (and generally just working too much and not finding time to enjoy things…). When would you want to move there, if you do?