The Cat Wall of China

Yes, I know it is the Great Wall of China. But it is overrun by cats. Really.

I chose to go to the Mutianyu section of the wall strictly based on the fact that it has a toboggan run you can slide down from near the top of the wall. Seriously, that was the draw. I’d seen these toboggan runs on YouTube, but had never visited any place that actually had one.

Something I didn’t take into consideration was the hour-long climb I had to do. I should have taken the ski lift up the mountain. I was able to climb all the stairs, but it was an hour of torture. Due to more depression and a change in my work schedule, I’ve spent most of the last week in bed watching YouTube. So to say I was a bit out of condition to climb several hundred steps is a huge understatement. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.

I live on the south side of Beijing. It took about an hour and 45 minutes to reach Mutianyu, which is a cute little town that is probably bustling during the tourism season. In early November, it’s a bit quiet. But the Didi (Chinese Uber) took me right to the front gate. I was a bit worried though. The gate and the town itself seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere. Would I be able to get a Didi back? I’ll worry about that later.

I picked a good day to go. It was a Friday, and due to the general gloom and temperature, hardly anyone was there. The downside of that was, the tourism season was over. The Mutianyu location requires you to walk several hundred meters through a sort of pedestrian street lined with tons of souvenir shops and restaurants. Unfortunately, most of them were closed. I’d packed a bottle of ice water and a small container of M and M peanuts. It was sort of a torture to walk past empty restaurants and snack shacks, but I wasn’t all that hungry. What I didn’t realize is that I had to board a shuttle bus to get to the main event. I quickly caught on and followed some fellow tourists to the bus.

American fast food is everywhere. Not in the mood for a burger? Not to worry. Subway and Baskin Robbins awaits at the foot of the Great Wall.

So after a short bus ride, we get to the very tiny town of Mutianyu, which seems to be nothing but hotels and restaurants (mostly closed).

The only other place I have seen so many cats in the wild was Key West, Florida.

So we get off the shuttle bus which stopped right in front of a grocery store, a Subway sandwich shop, and Baskin Robbins. I start walking uphill.

Last year apparently was the 616th anniversary of this section of the wall. It’s rare that you see the 616th anniversary of anything these days.

Back at the first ticket area, I went ahead and bought a ticket for the toboggan slide. I wanted to make sure I had the ticket, because sometimes if you wait and assume you can buy a ticket on site, you’re out of luck. If I had any brains, I would have bought a ticket for the ski lift, instead of climbing what seemed like a thousand steps up the side of the mountain to reach the wall.

All in all, it’s just another 1,000,000 steps just to get to the wall.

I wish I would have taken a photo of the steps I went up. I made a brief video of it, but after a while I was so sick of steps, I guess I didn’t want to be reminded of them anymore. But it was a good day for physical exertion. It was overcast and cool, which made the sweat dripping off my face an interesting contrast to the leather jacket crumpled in my lap. I was struck how quiet it was. I passed maybe six people coming down the steps as I was going up. I took it easy–heart problems run in my family, and my paternal grandfather died on Father’s Day, 1942. I wasn’t about to die on a side of a mountain in China, even though I was reminded every so often by pleasant signs saying to take care of children and the elderly, and to watch out for the steps, which were lacking railings in some areas. It was a hazardous climb to say the least. But I paced myself going up the mountain.

I was greeted by a section of wall, and after yet more steps, I was actually ON THE WALL. Near Watchtower 6, as a matter of fact.

I should have asked why there were so many cats in the area, but I didn’t.

The Great Wall sort of reminds me of El Morro and San Cristobal in Puerto Rico.

The passageway just to the left of the flag leads to the thousands of steps. And a snack bar and the toboggan slide.

So after I got to the passageway, I turned left and started walking up to Watchtower 6. A trio of kitties were watching it.

I passed through Watchtower 6 and made it to Watchtower 7 (I think). This particular tower had sort of a rooftop terrace, so to speak. I climbed yet more stairs to check it out.

I would estimate the watchtowers I ventured into are maybe 1200-1500 square feet. They are basically stone houses without doors you can shut.

I like stairs. So I went up. There were remnants of what looked like a room. The walls were maybe a foot high.

And this is what I saw from the top of Watchtower 7.

I got a late start so I didn’t stay at the wall for very long. But now that I know the ropes a bit better, I know what I need to do for my next visit. The toboggan ride was a lot of fun. They had individual toboggans, complete with brakes, so that sort of fulfilled my Olympic bobsled/luge fantasy. And yes, even though there were signs saying “no photos” I DID get some footage going down, but before the end, I did chicken out and stopped the camera. Of course, I got the souvenir photo of me on the sled, because of course I did. At 30 rmb, it was quite a good deal, I thought.

This trip made me realize how freaking HUGE Beijing is. Nearly two hours to go from one side of the city to another is pretty mind-blowing to me. But it was really nice to go to a tourist attraction and not be faced with thousands of people. The gloomy skies seemed appropriate. Castles and castle-like structures don’t make me think of blue skies, sorry Disney. But I was happy that I went, and I think I’ll pay attention to the weather report and do another excursion. And I’ll definitely try to do that ski lift/cable car thing up the mountain. To climb all those stairs during wet/freezing weather would be rather miserable….but a point of pride if I did accomplish it. Beijing usually has a reputation for being dry, so I think I brought my Guangzhou humidity with me, as a teacher at my school said it’s rained more in Beijing these last few months than the entire time he’s lived in Beijing, which is five years.

But I did the wall. I saw a very small part of the wall, but damn, if you are going to build a wall, THIS is how you do it.

The Ice Was Nice

I got to go on a field trip Friday. I’d been warned that it would be “boring.” This was from one of my teaching colleagues who suggested I take some marking along, or something to read. Her class had gone the day before mine was supposed to go. We were going to an ice rink. I was thrilled, but packed our class novel with me in case I really did get bored.

The rink wasn’t the one I’d been to previously. That was on the north side of Beijing. Friday morning, I endured a smelly bus ride (someone or something reeked of cat piss) through south Beijing. The rink we visitied was maybe 20 minutes away, located in a mall. But it wasn’t a mall skating rink—this was gloriously full-sized, complete with Plexiglas shields.

I hadn’t been skating in years. So I was excited. A few of my students asked me if I was going to skate and I said I was. I own hockey skates, but didn’t bother packing them when I left for China. So I rented a pair of skates that fit, but were painfully snug on my bunions. I should have thought to pad them a bit before I left that morning, but I’ve been occupied with other things.

I taught myself how to skate, but I’m no expert. I still don’t know how to gracefully stop, do forward cross overs, or skate backwards. But I surprised myself. After only a few minutes, I felt more comfortable on the ice, and wasn’t clinging to the boards. I dressed just right—jeans over leggings, hoodie over long-sleeved shirts. Everyone else was bundled up like they were competing in Iditarod. One staff member asked me if I’d be warm enough. I padded my tummy and told her my fat would keep me warm. I knew once I got going, I’d be comfortable, if not sweaty.

We arrived at the mall, which was still closed. We climbed up three flights of escalator steps, because no one could be bothered to turn them on. Oh well, it would warm up my muscles before skating.

And no, I didn’t fall. I know how to lace my skates up tight enough for good ankle support. I bent my knees. I kept my center of gravity where it should be. And when I felt tired, I stopped. But being out on the ice tapped something in me. I was actually smiling, feeling the wind on my face as I glided around.

The kids all got plastic chairs to sit on while the instructors told them what they would be doing. The kids also got to push classmates in front of them on the chairs. The chairs were too low for me, but I agreed to sit on something that looked like a red plastic Golden Retriever with a handle coming out of its ass. It was a combination training tool and toy. One person sits on the back of the plastic dog while the person behind pushes. It teaches balance and also gives you a workout, since I was probably the heaviest staff member there. Surprisingly, the student pushing me in the “race” from one side of the rink to the other won.

One of my students who plays hockey had all eyes on him as he zipped around the rink.

I didn’t want to get off the ice. I really had a good time. The students then watched a film about the winter Olympics, highlighting the skating events. Short track speed skating never really caught my attention, as to me it’s NASCAR on ice.

After a lunch that was way too long (and somewhat unpleasant as I encountered the cat piss smell again) we headed downstairs to play land curling. What fun! Fort Wayne has a curling club, and I would have loved to try it, but working seven days a week made me not want to do anything. My students asked me if I wanted to try it, and on my second throw, made a bulls-eye. I was thrilled.

Not my bullseye. The kids sent the stones back before I could take a picture.

I genuinely had a good time, despite the cloud that’s been hanging over my head recently.

You find David Hasselhoff in the strangest places.

One of my fellow teachers was along too, and I got photos of him skating. Back at school in the office, he mentioned how tired he was. I didn’t feel too bad, considering. I think it was the excitement of seeing the sun again, and being out of the school environment, and doing something I enjoy. I will say though, I finally conked out after leaving school around 6:45 p.m. I walked home the long way, since the gate that connects the school grounds to my apartment complex was locked, and got some hamburger out of the freezer. I put it on the counter to defrost, and thought I might take a nap before dinner.

That “nap” turned into a six hour snooze. I got up, put the meat in the fridge, and went back to bed.

It was a good day.

Little Girl Lost

It’s been 17 years since my mom died October 8. I can’t believe it’s been that long. Time flies when you are desperately trying to survive. I worked so much that the last 15-20 years seem like a hopeless, lifeless blur.

I loved my mother. We were close, too close. I never gave much thought as to what I would do when she was gone, and that was a bad thing.

There were things I wish I could ask her now, things that I will never have the answers to. Strange things that make no sense to me. I suppose to someone else, it would have made sense faster. An incident in the summer of 2020 caused me to realilze something about myself. I don’t want to talk about it much; I need to investigate it more. But this doesn’t really have much to do with my mother. Or maybe it does.

I sometimes wondered if my mom never wanted me to grow up. As I said, we were close. Very close. I remember during my teenage years, Friday nights spent hanging out at the mall—with my mom. Sometimes we would split up and meet at Walgreen’s after an hour and a half. I’d eat French fries washed down with Coke, she would have coffee and sometimes a piece of pie. Other times we’d walk together and chat about things. No dates for me. There never would be during my teen years. The world didn’t love me, but my mom did. Dad and I would sometimes have breakfast on Sunday mornings, or I’d ride with him to Ohio when he bought lottery tickets. The years when mom was still working at the restaurant, dad and I would be the ones to go to the mall on Friday; we’d stop at Wendy’s first, then head to Glenbrook Square. It was there that I would teach myself to skate. Seems strange now that my dad would leave me to skate at the rink, and my mom would leave me to wander the mall on my own. But then again, I remember my sixth grade year I was given the job of looking after the school office. Sounds amazingly dangerous now, but I would eat my lunch in solitary splendor at Northcrest Elementary. That’s how responsible I was. And square.

And nerdy. It got worse as I got older. And maybe mom saw it; she could be remarkably insightful. She predicted computers would run our lives, so I should learn everything I could about them. (I didn’t, I should have. One of my many regrets.)

One of the mysteries that never made sense to me was career choice. My mother encouraged me to be a teacher, but strangely, never encouraged me to get really good grades so I could get a scholarship, because she really wasn’t too keen on me going to college. I am not sure why. My dad was the one who wanted me to go. Did my mother think I wasn’t smart enough? Certainly my grades didn’t reflect greatness, but being bullied, I didn’t want to be in school in the first place. If I had to do it over, I would have demanded to be homeschooled, or to have a homebound teacher from seventh grade on. I had one the last half of fourth grade and all of fifth grade, and it was great. I got along better with adults anyway. And my grades were pretty good. If I hadn’t been bullied by my classmates, I wonder where I’d be now. I could understand if I had pushed people down stairs, or slapped them for no good reason, but I was rejected for being me. How do you make that stop?

But with the career choices my mother made for me, I wasn’t especially enthused. I wasn’t thrilled about going back into a classroom, even as an adult. Being a secretary didn’t seem exciting either, and with my terrible grades in my second year typing class, it didn’t seem like that would work either. I could never get the hang of setting up columns. I’d struggle, and struggle and struggle, never dreaming that I wouldn’t have to worry about setting up columns once personal computers made it as easy as clicking a few icons. I still ended up getting a D in typing second year. The future isn’t helpful when you need the fucking help NOW. Despite my lousy grade in Mr. Peterson’s class, typing was one of the more useful classes I took in ~~hell~~ school.

So mom didn’t want me to go to college, but said I should be a teacher. What was she thinking? One of her closest friends who went to school for teaching had to wait several years until she got a class of her own. Did my mom not realize this was the early 1980s and not 1870? Surely she didn’t think I could do a nine-month apprenticeship and become a teacher?

After several failed attempts at making a living, I’m a teacher. But I doubt myself all the time.

My mother also never really seemed to understand (or care) that I never dated in high school, and when I did date, I didn’t date much. The first time I was ever asked out, she was furious. FURIOUS. I am still baffled to this day as to why she was so upset. But maybe she knew. Maybe she knew even before the idea sunk in to me decades later. The men I met and dated wouldn’t give a single shit about me. They were only out for what they could get. And if I wouldn’t fuck them, they would dump me. And when I think of those three dates I had with that guy (whom I met at a hockey game) I was very lucky I wasn’t date raped. But my mom, not really giving me much advice before going out with this guy, maybe didn’t know or realize how it was going to be. I certainly didn’t know what I was doing, but the silence of my closest college friend, whom I’d told about the date, wasn’t one of envy. It was of pity.

The guy broke up with me because nothing ever went farther. And he was insulting. We were at the mall once and he saw a woman he thought was attractive. “Maybe I’ll go over there and introduce you as my sister,” he joked. I laughed, because I was dumb. Later, I realized the insult for what it was. He was 6’5” and paper white and red-haired. I was short and dark. After he dumped me, I wrote him a poison pen letter. I’m good at those.

But mom didn’t seem to care about my career or social life. I remember the first day on my first real job after college graduation, I’d started at 8 a.m. and was still there at 10:30 p.m. She’d called because she was worried. I couldn’t believe I was still there myself and would be expected to show up the next day at 8 a.m. even though I can’t remember what time I got home that night.

I guess I was too dumb to know. I always thought things would work out. Even as the end came for my father, and then my mother, I guess I thought things would work out, right up until the time I knew they wouldn’t. Super-long story short, I was a child for a very, very long time. I didn’t grow up because it never occurred to me that I had to. I lived at home with mom and dad, because there was no way I could pay both my bills and rent at the same time, thanks to the poverty-level jobs I continued to hold until very recently. I remember being amazed when my friends my age got married, or when high school friends didn’t come back to Fort Wayne to visit. Life was on hold for me for a long time, and I passed only a few milestones that “normal” people do.

Am I mad at my mom? Sometimes I am. Sometimes I wonder what the purpose was in keeping me from doing certain things. Did she want to keep me young and therefore all to herself? Was she angry when I attracted the attention of that guy because she was afraid I’d fall in love and get married and leave? Was that the reason why she didn’t especially care that I went for long stretches of time between dates? She never met any of my boyfriends, because she had been long dead before I eventually got one. Ironically, I thought he was rather young too. It wasn’t just the 12-year age difference; he too was wounded at a young age, and seemed forever 12, just like me. Life stopped being fun for me at 12, when I started middle school. Before, I was okay in the world. After, I was hated. For being me.

For the longest time, I wanted to be five years old forever. I realize that was an impractical request, but I think if I could have been five, perpetually five, with my mom and dad stuck at age 41 and 50, I might have been forever happy, forever innocent. Especially if my brother hadn’t been there. That’s another story for another time.

But that’s the problem if you depend on someone, or if you are too close to a person. What do you do when they die? I remember wanting to crawl into my mother’s coffin with her after she died, because now what?

I miss my mom, but sometimes I think she stunted me. I lived my life in fear, and I still live in fear. Afraid of trying things, because I might get hurt. Lost. Or die. I would like to think my mother would be proud of me for ending up in China; she had a special fascination with Chinese culture. But I know that when she was alive, she would never have approved me taking off and going. With her death, there was a new beginning for me, a terrible, tough journey. I postponed grieving, which set off more economic disaster, but this is what can happen. Hopefully I’m on a better path now, but I feel terribly behind, like I’m running and I will never catch up.

I love you mom, but you couldn’t protect me from the rejection I faced at school, and the world at large, or the terrors of my brother, or the realities of life. It would have been great if you’d left me enough money to hire someone to protect me, to enable to continue my life with a feeling of safety and security, but I had to learn some very tough lessons late in life. Simultaneously, I feel both young and old at the same time. And it doesn’t feel right.

Randumb Photos

China has been very, very, good to me. Every time I leave my apartment, I’m either amused, disgusted, fascinated, or inspired. I’m sure it will eventually come to a halt, but since coming to China, I feel like I’m living that Bob Marley song….Every little thing….gonna be alright….

Seriously, things seem to get sorted out. Not just issues here in China, but stuff I’ve been struggling with my whole life. And stuff that seems hopeless, I’m actually kind of okay with now. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Something else will replace whatever void I am concerned with.

That being said, here are some things I have seen here in China that I would like to share with you, because I care about you, dearest readers, all two of you.

If you follow Ohio route 6 east far enough, you’ll end up here. This is where all those giant windmills are made.

Feel like eating some crab? These crab trucks will help you out. So smart, they don’t need a driver.

There’s some horrifying shit here in China. I’m not even talking about you know what and those other things. The very fact there is a Crocs shop operating ANYWHERE on earth is a crime against humanity.

These ice cream trucks are the same size as the crab trucks. Only, since they don’t require drivers, you can buy ice cream and not have to deal with the creepy driver that you would back in the states.

I took the high speed train from Guangzhou to Beijing. Yes, it was a long trip, but much less nerve-wracking than flying. None of that “if the oxygen masks drop down, put it on, then assist your child” or “this is how you inflate the life vest” bullshit. In American, this train was going 192 miles per hour. You’re welcome.

I was taking a walk near my house. I live near a river, so in some ways, it’s just like home. It even has a path running beside the river! This was taken at night. These bikes are everywhere, in piles, rows, or solo, like this one. Something about this scene made me stop and get a shot of it. It looks like the scene before the actual murder scene. This is right after the poor sucker got forced/lured off the bike. This does not look like a “happy little bike.”

In terms of unique decor, probably the best hotel I have stayed at. There was some sort of speaker with built in music (not a radio, because no commercials or tacky giveaways) that was pumping out an interesting mix of sounds. Thank you, Orange Hotel, for exposing me to yet another electronica duo from Europe. When Laid Back’s “Happy Dreamer” (DJ Disses Happy Horse Mix) came on, I was thinking, “what is this catchy, amazing, groovy bop?” Thankfully, the music was on a loop, so I Shazamed some of the songs, and now I’ve discovered some new (to me) music. Turns out Laid Back was responsible for “White Horse” back in the early 80s.

Any hotel that has Jim Morrison on the envelope where your keycard to your room is housed HAS to be cool. The soap Orange Hotel supplied to my room was so awesome, I took a picture so I could try and look for it online. I should have actually stolen the bottles, but I didn’t do that.

I’ve been at functions where this stuff is served, and people seem to make a big deal out of it, but to me, the packaging looks way too much like motor oil. Incidentally, the bottle on the left costs more than I make in a month. Whoever was paid for the design of this bottle probably got $5 bucks or so, because that’s about how much the effort was worth.

Seen in a toilet stall. It’s my new life motto.

This has to be the most material used in a “one piece bikini” ever.

Hipsters are EVERYWHERE.

I didn’t even know they still made this stuff!

Seen in my apartment complex. I don’t honestly know if they mean stay off the grass, or after you’re done walking on it, to fluff it up a bit and maybe give it some water. Either way, it’s sort of a Zen way of saying, “if you walk on grass, there are consequences.”

Trash Television, and some Cool YouTubers

So I have been in Beijing for around six weeks now. It’s so much better than Guangzhou in several ways.

However, it IS more expensive. The move set me back about three months in terms of savings. Because I signed a year-long lease in Guangzhou even though my contract was for 10 months, I lost a chunk of my deposit for leaving early. Silly me thought they would extend my contract, but they didn’t. It’s fine though, Guangzhou wasn’t a good fit. While the riverfront is beautiful, and the Chinese and western food was delicious, there were too many bad memories associated with the city.

That being said, living in Beijing is a big difference. I live in a nice apartment complex. But it’s not like I’m on top of Tiananmen Square or anything. I am in the suburbs. So it’s quiet. In Guangzhou, I lived in Tianhe District, and I was just down the street from my school. There was so much going on within walking distance of my place—shops, grocery stores, restaurants, services.

Here in Beijing, I’m on the south side of the city, and there’s not much within walking distance. There are three grocery stores, a McDonald’s (there’s a new one that will open soon and that is about ten minutes away) A couple of universities, and … a river greenway. If you feel like a longer stroll, you can get to a mall in about 40 minutes. I know I have talked about malls here, but believe it or not, that’s where the grocery stores are. Even the big Wumart down the street has stores on the main floor. I went to a store named SoFly the other day, and it was a similar set up. The main floor has a bunch of different stores, then you get on an escalator to the second floor, where the supermarket begins. So it’s not like Meijer, where it’s a big box store that has food as well as clothing and other stuff. Construction in China is booming, but grocery stores tend to share real estate with malls, or else smaller stores. So going to the mall is necessary unless you shop at small local markets. And I tend to avoid those, because I’ve seen the way they handle meat, fish and poultry. It’s out in the open—anyone, from a small child tall enough to reach into the display bin, to a fully grown adult can literally pick up the meat with their bare hands, inspect it, and plop it back on to the bed of ice it’s being displayed on. With the amount of food poisoning I had the first year here, I stick to places like Seven Fresh to buy meat.

Okay, so this super-long intro has nothing to do with why I originally wanted to write this blog post. But my point is, I’m isolated. A cab ride into the city is $14-20 round trip. When I indulge at The Cheesecake Factory (delicious fish and chips, delicious chips and guac, and all at American-size portions) it runs around $52 or so. I’m still trying to save money like crazy, and it’s actually good I am living where I am living. I pay a bit more for rent, but it’s a beautiful place, and comfy enough so that going out isn’t something I crave. I can walk to school in seven minutes, because my complex backs right up to the school grounds. Baopals sometimes delivers right to my door. And the majority of my entertainment consists of watching YouTube. Lately I have been hooked on ZainDaily, a young Moroccan man who comments and reacts to episodes of 90 Fiancé and its numerous spin-offs. If I could buy a subscription to DiscoveryPlus, or whoever is broadcasting this trash, I might consider it. But even if I haven’t seen the episodes, Zain has enough clips for me to get the gist of it. YourWetSock is another YouTuber who comments and criticizes about this franchise as well. Zain’s commentary is calm and humorous, delivered with that wonderful Moroccan accent. He also explains Muslim culture/customs and knows quite a bit about American culture. YourWetSock’s delivery is more manic and energetic, but I find both appealing to me. I’ve been watching Zain more recently, however.

So why am I watching this? The couples are trainwrecks, the situations unbelievable, and it is cringe. Reality television being what it is, the couples have a level of dysfunctionality that is irresistible. A typical pairing is a much older man paired with a younger woman, or a much older woman with a younger man.

I guess I watch this because I’m a terrible person. I had a run of terrible luck and setbacks for about 15 years. Poverty, bankruptcy, medical issues, and a failed relationship. So I guess I get off on watching desperate people pursue relationships doomed to fail. In a way I feel sorry for some of these people, but it’s also fun psychoanalyzing these folks to figure out why Big Ed, for example, who is 56 now, I think pursues women half his age. I think he does it because his 20s were probably a good time in his life, but I also think he was hurt by a woman during that time. Because that time was so good for him, I think he purposely chooses women in their 20s in order to relive in a way, his 20s. But this time, he wants to get it right. If you have read about repetition compulsion, you know what I am talking about.

There’s more, of course. Big Ed has Klippel-Feil Syndrome. It’s a rare condition, but because of it, Big Ed looks like Humpty Dumpty. Some of his neck vertebrae has fused together, and he’s about 4’11”. So not only is he short, but he appears to not have a neck. And at the time of filming, he was very overweight. We also find out that he was married, has a daughter who was 29 at the time, and had cheated on his one and only wife. You’d think if you got the short end of the looks stick, that if you got a partner, you’d behave. Not Big Ed. He complains about not having dated for 29 years, before he meets Rose (age 23) from the Philippines. It’s not like Big Ed is a millionaire, but he seems to have enough disposable income to give Rose a much better life. However, Big Ed hasn’t been honest about several things, and after being a patronizing dick to Rose, she dumps him. But Rose is doing well. Because of her exposure on 90 Day Fiancé, she has blown up on Instagram, and does a bit of modeling, and was able to buy a nicer house than the tin-roofed shack Ed visited her in.

Ed moved on to 90 Days: The Single Life, and roped in a restaurant manager (age 28) and started a relationship with her. This one was painful to watch. Rose has become a queen, but the restaurant manager, twice-divorced, seems to have lower self-esteem than I have. Despite Ed moving at the speed of sound (he introduced Liz to his mom on the second date, I think) and a shockingly abusive phone call, Liz and Ed are supposedly engaged.

So why does watching this garbage fulfill me? Well, it’s because I too want a better life, but instead of trying to snare a man, I’m out here working. Sure, I moved halfway across the world, but it was for a JOB, not a man. This is me, who vowed years ago I’d never move for a job, because what if I hated the job? Well, I’ve learned to just deal with it. There’s a reason why a lot of ex-pats drink, but the three bottles of moscato the former tenant left for me remain sealed.

But I can watch this and think, “at least I am not so desperate for love that I would hook up with someone 25 years old.” Because about the only thing I would have to offer is a green card. But I don’t have any money. Point being, I’m not as delusional as Big Ed, or Rebecca with her twenty-something dude Zied, or Jenny (60) and Sumit (30). I feel sorry for these people, because they are average folks. The older men pursuing the younger women has been going on forever, but they tend to treat these women like they are children, which presents a disturbing dynamic. I dated a guy 12 years younger than I was, and at times I felt like I was his mother. I couldn’t seriously listen to his video game triumphs, or believe that he actually wanted kids and would make a good father. His own family situation was fucked up, so one of the reasons for having kids is to prove he could raise them better than his own parents could, which is NOT A GOOD ENOUGH EXCUSE FOR HAVING KIDS. He also wanted to pass on his “superior” genes (he was a member of MENSA, but refused to wear glasses he desperately needed in order to see properly, because he felt wearing glasses was a “crutch.”)

We broke up of course, but it took a long time. I understand the desperation and loneliness these people face. But the difference was, my relationship wasn’t broadcast to millions of people. And unlike the people on the show, I’ve learned. It’s better to be alone than to be with someone you are just “meh” about. Sure, it gets lonely. But the less people in my life, the less I have to complain about.

So I will continue to watch YouTubers comment on this sad folks. It’s bizarre to see middle-aged women hook up with these young studs, and believe it when these dudes say, “I love you; it’s totally okay that you’re too old to have children.” Guys have it easy; they can sire kids as long as they can raise the flagpole, but even Big Ed lost out because Rose wanted to have more children; it was her dream to add at least one more kid to be a brother or sister to the son she already has. Ed already had a 29 year old daughter; he didn’t want any more kids. And I’m sure it’s flattering to be middle-aged or even elderly and have some young thing pay some attention to you, but my viewpoint would be, “what on earth do you talk about?” Your frame of reference is totally different if you were a teenager in the 1980s, as opposed to the early 2000s. The music you listen to might be completely different, and the historical events will be ancient history to your young thing born in 1999. Challenger explosion? What Challenger explosion? Nine-eleven? Um….I was like a baby at that time. I would feel odd. I admire Madonna for pulling these young studs at her age, and I can’t say that I blame her…I think there are very few men in their early 60s who are as fit as she is. I’d understand that you’d want someone with energy. But as much as she has in terms of cash and material goods, and power/respect, permanent, lasting love has eluded her. She and Sean were two years apart in age, if I remember correctly, but Guy Ritchie was 10 years younger, and Ahlamalik Williams is 26 or 27…the Material Girl celebrated her 63 birthday August 16. I don’t see this lasting either, but at least Madonna looks pretty damn good for her age. Still, what do they talk about? The guy must have whatever it is that Madonna is interested in, but as slutty as she portrays herself, she’s one hell of a smart businesswoman, and actually knows something about art and literature.

I watch because I can say, “there but for the grace of God go I.” Yes, I’ve done stupid things for love, yes, I’ve always hoped, but as pathetic as I’ve been, there is no way I would sink to the depths of Danielle Mullins Jbali, who claims to be over her ex-husband, but looked like a lovesick schoolgirl when a conversation at a restaurant was caught on camera. It’s sad to see her smiling, smiling, smiling, when Mohammed could barely look at her. You get the feeling that she would go back in a heartbeat, if he asked, and he won’t. There’s also talk online that Danielle might be mentally impaired, and was taken advantage of Mohammed; there are others that say Danielle is a master manipulator.

If anything, the series shows how powerful love can be. Addictive. Like heroin. It’s the emotion that makes you think that 20 something chick really IS into you, even though you’re 57 and put mayonnaise in your hair to make it soft. Or, that young dude really does think you’re hot, even though when you show up in Tunisia, there’s a LOT more of you than what your pictures showed, and more wrinkles too. And if you’re desperate for a green card, what WOULD you do for one? It paid off for Mohammed, who is a truck driver now, but it’s sad to see middle-aged women, who aren’t exactly rolling in cash, sell everything to move overseas, or to bring their long-distance lover to the states. You also wonder why someone like Usman, an aspiring rapper from Nigeria, would put up with Lisa, who is the human equivalent of Patty and Selma from The Simpsons, only much meaner. Her jealousy is an actual living, breathing creature. And her manners and expectations are so hideous, you wonder why anyone would put up with her.

That’s a running theme with Rebecca and Angela and Lisa, all middle-aged. Their jealousy is off the charts. If a woman so much as looks at their men, the men get read the riot act. The majority of the Americans on this show are toxic people, with a trail of failed relationships behind them, who honestly think someone on the other side of the Atlantic is finally going to be “the one.”

For me it’s schadenfreude, looking at these people and thinking how delusional they are. Watching them ask foreigners if they speak English, if they like Americans, and so forth. I hope I never end up like any of these people.

God, this was long. If you finished this, thanks for reading.

Oh Hey…

I have a YouTube channel too….

Nihao, Beijing!

I moved to Beijing and it went smoother than I thought it would. I am not sure why I still worry about things, when they end up being okay. The train ride was great (no lectures about what to do if the oxygen masks drop and how to inflate your life vest) and getting my stuff boxed up and packed wasn’t that bad at all. I tried to be super organized and pack a lot of stuff into shopping bags I’d saved. I wrote a list of what was in each bag and taped it on the outside. For the most part, it was a matter of the moving guy making and taping the boxes, and loading the bags in. Everything to Beijing in one piece. I didn’t move any furniture, save for a small plastic Ikea shelf, which I use for a nightstand. I purposely didn’t buy any furniture when it was obvious I wouldn’t be staying. I’m trying to save money, and on top of that, I know first hand what happens when you have a lot of stuff here in China. When moving, you end up selling it, if you can, giving it away or trashing it if you are not taking it with you.

There’s stuff I could have parted with. Things that I literally hadn’t used since I’d moved to Guangzhou, clothes I hadn’t worn, etc. This past year, if I bought something, I tried to make sure I would use it. I know I could have used metal shelving I’d had my eye on at Ikea, but I put off buying those too. I felt Guangzhou was bad karma; I felt I didn’t deserve anything nice.

Thankfully, Beijing has turned out to be good this past week and a half since I arrived. The sun shines, the apartment is gorgeous (check it out here) and I finally have my metal shelving. The tenant who was here before me offered a bunch of her things which I purchased, and threw quite a bit of stuff in for free. I’m now a fan of satin sheets, which I’d heard of but never used until now. There are three air conditioners in the apartment, and it’s bliss to turn the on in my bedroom on, turn the fan on, and snuggle in satin and my beloved comforter. Since I’ve arrived here, I have not had to use any Unisom or Sominex. So I don’t know if it’s a combination of the weather, getting out of Guangzhou, or sleeping in a nice cold room, but I’m sleeping much better.

I decided to go to Tiananmen Square last Sunday. The sun was blazing, there was a nice breeze, and I spent a couple hours walking around and taking pictures. It’s an interesting set up. It’s a tourist attraction, so you have to show your identification card or your passport. Thankfully, they accepted a photocopy of my passport, and my residence permit from Guangzhou and let me in. The roads surrounding the square are fenced off, so you cross the street via an underground passageway. Then you pass through a couple of security checkpoints and cross the street at a crosswalk manned by two security guards. As much as I wanted to recreate the iconic Tank Man photo (‘cuz I’m corny as fuck) I didn’t realize that had actually happened in the street, not in the actual square. The streets are opened to traffic, so I decided against it.

When I got to the square, I got a little teary-eyed. I’m not a history buff. Some sports history I really dig, but the other stuff not so much. But being there made me realize that Tiananmen Square exists. If you grew up in the Midwest and didn’t travel very much, you see places on television and think whatever city/monument/uprising is going on exists only in the television. For me, actually being there makes it real. I was aware what was going on in 1989, and if you were alive at that time, you can’t forget the image of that guy standing in front of those tanks.

If I ever get another cat, I think I might call it “Chairman Meow.” Get it? This is a photo of the MAOsoleum. Sorry.

And it’s sobering too, to stand where people were willing to protest for freedom, something a lot of Americans, including myself, take for granted. I sometimes think about it every time I try to go to a site that I can’t access. It’s frustrating. It doesn’t happen so much now, but having to have a VPN to access certain sites here in China is an inconvenience most people in the states don’t realize. But there’s at least one site I’d like to access, but can’t. It’s not because China won’t allow me, it’s because the U.S. won’t.

I couldn’t get over how blue the sky looked. I kept looking up like a total dork, but when you haven’t experienced this type of sunlight and blue sky for about six months, you get stoked.

I watch a lot of YouTube, because I’m too cheap to get cable. Seems like I have a good strong internet connection, so maybe I’ll break down and buy a Netflix subscription, but I’d rather have Hulu for The Handmaid’s Tale. But Hulu has denied me; they won’t sell subscriptions outside the U.S.

Talk about oppression.

Mr. Blue Sky, please tell me why, you had to hide away for soooo long, (soooooo long)? National Museum of China here.

Monument to the People’s Heroes, I think.

I miss you, Dad

Twenty-one years later, I never thought I’d be in China. Today was a hot, sunny day just like it was back then. Except no afternoon thunderstorm. You left your homeland for a better life, as did I. I miss you and love you.

Moving on Up…

So I moved to Beijing. See the apartment here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6SAFQL4a8o

For the first time in my life, I hired a moving company. It seemed like I had way too much stuff, even without furniture. But I guess I did indulge a bit these past few weeks. After months of just basically buying mostly the essentials, I discovered the wholesale markets. I did get some great deals, so I am happy about that.

Sometimes I don’t think I deserve nice things. But here I am in a two-bedroom apartment. It almost feels too big, but I guess I was tired. The woman who interviewed me asked if I’d be interested in a colleague’s apartment. I just went on pictures alone, but it’s very close to the school. So I will save on transportation. The former tenant and I ended up chatting on WeChat, so I bought a lot of her stuff, and she gave me quite a bit too. I’m in very good shape in terms of basic household stuff. And my own stuff will be coming soon. I can’t seem to catch a break with rent though. I always seem to get paid right after the rent is due. In a way, it’s handy because it teaches discipline, and by the time the rent is paid, a few days later, I get paid. But I’ve got to be careful.

Still, it will be fun to enlarge some of my photographs and use them as wall art. I will be able to put up pictures here. There’s a room that I really like for some reason, and I’m considering using it as my bedroom. I don’t know, it just feels happy. I may make it my happy room, and put stuff in there that is eye candy—the handbags I recently bought, pictures that I have taken that I love, figurines, actual real art (?) Christmas tree lights…whatever grabs my fancy. The fact that I found an apartment before I even left Guangzhou, and the ease with which things have been happening here (the visa office took maybe ten minutes) are hopefully good omens for the future. Moving is expensive, and I wasn’t exactly well-prepared for this journey. But I’m not completely broke, and everyone will get paid for their time and trouble.

I may be cursing the winter weather in a few months, but I’m enjoying the 11^th floor breeze from open windows on both the north and south side of the apartments. There’s only one other tenant on my floor, so I almost feel like I have a private elevator. I’m moving on up, to the southeast side, to a deluxe apartment, in the sky. I’m not a religious person, but I will pray the school year goes well, and that personal goals will be achieved this time next year.

Moving On …

I’m sitting in my apartment with bags and boxes of my stuff. I’m moving to Beijing. The movers will be coming tomorrow, but I have several lists attached to the bags and boxes listing what is in them. I’m not taking any furniture with me, but I still think I have way too much stuff. Way too many clothes, shoes, books, and trinkets. But really, it isn’t much.

Looking at this stuff has made me reflect a little bit. This past year has been a blur. I worked so much I really didn’t have the time or energy to go out exploring. I’ve made up for that these past few weeks. I discovered some wholesale places. Places I would have loved to have known about months ago, but it’s just as well. I would have ended up with way more handbags that I need. I love bargains, what can I say. I have visited two leather wholesale places, one jewelry wholesale place, two cosmetic wholesale places, a shoe wholesaler and a clothing wholesaler. If I was going to be here another year, no doubt I would have stocked up on materials to make keychains . But as it is, I just bought beads. I may make some bracelets again.

That’s a big if, though. The past year was incredibly stressful and somewhat disappointing. Mixed messages, passive-aggressive behavior, and lack of warmth in the workplace took its toll. I retreated to my bedroom, and binge-watched YouTube videos as a form of escape. I am still hell-bent on saving money, and tried not to spend it. Watching YouTube was an inexpensive form of entertainment. Eventually, I got out and about. I didn’t want to leave without seeing some of Guangzhou. Beautiful city, but as I told some of my colleagues, it’s bittersweet leaving here. I suppose I shouldn’t take things too hard, but imposter syndrome didn’t fade away when I graduated from grad school.

I sit here hoping that Beijing will be great in all respects of my life, personal as well as professional. My last evenings here have been spent at home, out of the heat. I feel sort of bad about that; I’m not really squeezing everything I can at the last minute. But I think I’ve seen what I wanted to see here, experienced what I wanted to experience. I’ve become a bit selfish, I think. Or maybe just more selective with whom I spend my time. A fast friendship has made me realize who I am as a person and what I can put up with and what I can’t. I decided to distance myself in order to keep my stress levels down. I probably went about the distancing in a wrong way, but I am knowing myself better the older I get. If you aren’t good socially, and avoid people for fear of getting caught up in people’s drama and ability to manipulate you, it could end up saving your life. In this case, it’s saving my sanity and stress levels.