Travel is Fatal

Even This

"Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit."
"One day it will please us to remember even this."-Virgil

I woke up yesterday thinking that the world was exploding around me.

...Okay, if not the world, then at least my apartment building. Yeah yeah, I know- dramatic much? Initially I thought the noise was part of my dream, and the most frightening thing was waking up and realizing that the explosions from said dream had followed me into the waking world. After the initial panicked jolt, it didn't take me too long to figure out that the explosions were actually fireworks (rather than my initial guess- a bad day at the chemical factory down the street). The realization didn't really do much for my blood pressure, though. An explosion's an explosion- and it was so LOUD. I could feel the vibrations shaking the walls of my room and thrumming through my bed. In a Chinese-constructed apartment building, there's no such thing as good vibrations.

I hauled myself out of bed and went to my window, thinking that the revelers must have set up in the courtyard outside my window. No such luck. Nosiree- these fireworks were set up right below my window. They were so close I had to heft myself up and practically crawl out onto the ledge in order to look down at them. I vaguely suspected that the building manager might have lodged the fireworks in the walls themselves- used the opportunity to scare the rats away. 一举两得.  I wanted to lean out and scream "fire code" in Chinese, but I'm not sure the concept translates. Probably would've just gotten shot in the face with a rocket, anyway.

Afterward, in the comparative quiet of the afternoon, I couldn't help but reflect on the difference between this year's Mid-Autumn Festival and last year's... or at least the difference in my experience of the two. Last year, I was holed up in the Animosity Hotel, or doing that radio thing, or traveling to Harbin. (Feel free to check out the previous blog for a comparison.) This year the entire weekend was spent listening to the rumble of firecrackers, choking down rose-flavored moon cakes, and trying to figure out how to cook cucumbers and red peppers without using a stove (more on that later).

I guess the whole experience taught me just how little I know about China, and how far all my previous experiences have been from any sort of cultural immersion. "Old China hand," indeed. I feel like there must be some Chinese version of Kokopelli, out to shred the overinflated college grad ego.

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I had a different sort of cultural experience about a week and half ago. This experience centered around my struggle with the contemporary Chinese method of cooking- a gas stove.

See, I've kind of been living off of protein bars since I arrived in Jilin. I always carry some with me- traveling, emergencies, general laziness- you never know when they'll come in handy. But I was getting sick of protein bars and wanted to try my hand at this stir-fried garlic broccoli that Kevin used to make. Plus, my room mate was out of town and I thought it'd be nice to surprise her the following day with a homecooked dish, you know? So I cut the broccoli, chopped the garlic, poured a little oil in the wok and set it on the stove. The I turned on the gas tank under the sink and clicked the stove on. Cake.

I noticed, as I pushed the broccoli around, that there was a light glowing under the stove as well as on top of it, and, panicked, I quickly turned the dial off. The light under the stove flickered off as well. "Okay," I thought. "You're being paranoid. Maybe it's supposed to do that." So I turned it back on.

The glow still made me nervous, though. I've always been a bit paranoid about gas. I even sent my friend Wang Wei a text message before I started cooking, something along the lines of how I'd probably blow up the kitchen if I started to cook. Well. 

When I saw smoke coming out from under the countertop, it was probably the biggest holy hell moment of my life. Or at least in the top five. I turned off the dial, but this time the glow didn't go out, and the smoke just kept coming. That probably bumped the experience up to at least Holy Hell Moment #3.

What happened next was rather mortifying. I bolted out of the apartment and knocked on every door I could see, screaming about a fire, but only one person answered the door. Have I mentioned that the doors here are two layers think- metal and wood- and virtually sound-proof? I reiterate- "fire code."

A call to Father Brian and Wang Wei was immediately followed by a call to 119 (and wouldn't it just figure that it's the opposite of the number in the States). While we were waiting for the firemen, one of the girls who lives down the hall yelled that we had to shut off the electricity in the room, so I ran back into the smokey apartment to unplug all the appliances and grab my electrical stuff. Not my brightest moment. Especially since what she actually meant was "switch off the easy-to-reach master electrical box that is conveniently located just inside the front door." I have got to improve my Chinese.

As I stood outside with my neighbors and a few thousand of their closest friends, wondering dazedly if the gas tank was going to explode and should I get under cover, I overheard snippets of conversations: "What building?" "Owned or rented?" "It's the foreigner's rental..." "Where is..." "She is so white..." "Gas or electric..."  Even at the time, freaking out though I was, I was amused by the inevitable skin color comments that are apparently germane to any sort of conversation or inquiry.

To make an already long story a bit less lengthy, Father Brian and Wang Wei showed up around the same time as the firefighters. They helped me soak and scoop up the water from the fire hoses as random people stood in my living room and stared. They helped me talk to the police (who wanted to know why I wasn't registered as living there) and to the apartment's owner (who wanted a new set of cabinets and a marble countertop, to start) and generally helped me survive an extremely disoriented evening.

I remember thinking as I went to bed that evening, that someday this would all be terribly amusing. "Remember that time I set the kitchen on fire? Yeah, my first apartment. First time cooking anything beyond instant noodles, too. Yep, it was in China. Me- the unregistered foreigner studying on a tourist visa and wrecking mayhem wherever I go."

Hey, God- I can take a sign. Last year I melted plastic all over an oven... a year or two before that I tried to cook a pizza while it was still attached to some cardboard... Maybe it's time for me to just lay down the ladle, before I accidentally concoct some horrible biological pathogen while trying to make grilled cheese.

Yeah, someday it'll make a great story. One day it will please me to remember even this.

Ministry

“This morning this young man does what his time in seminary was preparing him to do, and what for the rest of his life will be the primary activity of his ministry.” -Edgar Wells

Um, planning parties? Somehow I don't think that's what Edgar Wells was thinking of- more's the shame. But I'll get to that later.

First, a bit of advice for those of you out there with even less common sense than me: do not go out in the tropics without sunscreen. Doing so marks you as a kind of stupid rarely found in those that walk erect. While most of my burn has healed quite nicely (leaving my skin an attractive two-toned white and dun color), the skin on my left shoulder still looks like a lunar landscape. I get vaguely disgusted looking at it, so I've taken to wearing high-collared shirts. At least it's stopped hurting.

Of course, there is no one here to feel my pain, since the seminarians are all from easy-tanning warm weather climes, and no one else is foolish enough to prance around without sunblock. I resent them all quietly and hope that my peeling skin makes their lunch taste a little less delicious.

Luckily, what the seminarians lack in easily flammable skin, they make up for in hilarity and exuberance. When not playing Majiang with our resident big-wig, whey amuse themselves by planning preposterous send-off parties for themselves.
                        
                         (Pat, Aaron, Victor, and Colin deeply engrossed in a game of Majiang)

What started off as a thoughtful BBQ to thank Maryknoll for hosting them has morphed into a multi-course entertainment extravaganza including everyone they have ever met in Hong Kong, from the priests and workers in Maryknoll to the security guards down the street. They're even inviting the bishop and the cardinal. 

And since such a momentous event needs an equally momentous name, they have decided to give the party a title: "The Mid-Summer Evening Maryknoll Tribute BBQ Seminarian Send-Off BASH."

I can't wait until July 22.