Day 1 and Day 2: A Case Study

Thursday 9/15/16

Well, we made it to China (hooray…?). And let me just get this out there right now: the next person that tells me “don’t worry, it will be great and you’ll have so much fun!” is gonna get smacked. I’m sure I will get to that point--someday. But today it’s mostly terrifying. It feels like EVERYTHING is different. The customs, the language, the food, the smells, the way a supermarket is laid out. The light switches. It’s overwhelming. I’m trying to be positive, but it’s hard. And it’s not even that I think anything is bad--it’s just...too much all at once.

The air in our new apartment is drier than I’m used to now. I woke up with my throat feeling like sandpaper this morning. It smells like new paint and that weird indefinable Asian grocery store aroma. But the floor is warm tan wood and the windows let in lots of light, and it’s bigger than any space we’ve had before. We can’t drink the tap water; there’s a filtration unit on the counter where we fill our bottles. I’m wondering about the proper method of doing dishes. If we can’t drink the water, is it safe to rinse our dishes in? Or should I fill up a basin with the filtered water each time I wash?

There’s a clock on top of a building across the way which chimes the hour loudly enough I can hear it with the windows closed. It came in handy when I tried to reset the time on the microwave, which I could only change in hour increments. I don’t know what the buildings are that I can see out my window. The cityscape is foggy, or smoggy, I’m not sure which, and it fades out into the distance. The guy who picked us up from the airport last night said that there were a lot of buildings built in the economic boom after the recession that are now standing empty, because no one bothered to check if there were enough people to fill them. It makes me wonder if the buildings I can see are tenanted. From up here on the 27th floor the haze washes out colors and makes a city that bustles at street level feel a little like a ghost town. The city at street level is smelly and dingy and noisy and kind of grossly humid today. Jonathan, our social sponsor (he got assigned to collect us from the airport and show us around until we get our bearings--he lives in our building and his Chinese is very good and he’s going to his next tour in Mumbai in two months) walked us to a nearby supermarket this afternoon, where he left us amid a bewildering welter of brightly colored products stamped with unintelligible Chinese to make our purchases and find our way home. We managed to do both, but my stomach was knotted so hard with anxiety I was afraid I might never breathe freely again. Fortunately the cashier was as uninterested in small talk as your average Walmart teller, so we escaped with no more interaction than a nervous “hello” and “thank you.” I feel a very little less anxious with one successful purchase under my belt, but the thought of doing that again still fills me with dread.

Our master bedroom has a king-sized bed, which feels enormous after sleeping on a queen for a year. I no longer get elbowed in the ribs when Mike rolls over. But none of the beds came with top sheets, just a fitted sheet and a comforter. Is this a cultural thing? I have no idea. I also have no idea where to buy sheets to tide us over until our own linens arrive in a few months. When we were doing the last bits of packing on Monday before we left I discovered a dryer full of dishtowels and a blanket that had been missed in the packing frenzy on Friday. I was afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find a place for it in our luggage, or that it would put us over the weight limit, but we managed, and it turned out to be a blessing. That blanket is much more comforting to sleep under than a comforter that who knows how many people have used.

The internet is patchy and fickle. Sometimes it loads right up, sometimes it craps out and you have to coax it back. There doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to when it works. Posting a picture to Instagram requires several tries and a lot of patience. Posting pictures elsewhere, including here, may be a lost cause. We'll see.

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Friday 9/16/16

Things look better with less jetlag and more sleep and even just a day's familiarity with my surroundings. Also, there was real bacon at breakfast this morning so even if the rest of the day is crappy this morning is awesome (we live in a hotel. They serve breakfast every morning, with choices ranging from cocoa puffs to made to order omelettes to tiny octopi you can add to your breakfast ramen.)

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Conclusion: bacon makes everything better.

A small update and a stupid brain.

T minus 11 days.

At the very end of my college experience I decided that I was definitely ready to graduate, since--for the first time in my life--I had finally gotten the hang of staying on top of my work. I even used my time so well during the semester that I turned in a huge project ahead of time, and when all my work was done and BYU classes were over I had so much time on my hands during student teaching that I startled my supervising teacher by demanding things to do during prep periods. It was a novel experience.

Moving this time around kind of feels the same way. Our move to Washington last year came up so suddenly that I felt like I couldn’t get a handle on it and so I just shut down and didn’t really prepare well. This time around I’ve known about it for nearly a year and I was determined that it would go way more smoothly. So far I think I’ve been reasonably successful in that. The movers come in a week and my to-do list has been winnowed down so far that today there’s nothing on it for me except put sticky notes on things in the apartment to mark what shipment they go in. This is both good and bad, because in the last month I’ve learned the usefulness of suppressing panic through productivity, and a lack of work tends to lead to a meltdown. Also, this sort of sorting is the absolute worst part of packing. I have to say “This box will go in this pile!” but then I can’t actually put it in a pile. I mean, I probably could, but there’s only about three square feet of open space in my apartment to begin with, and it would quickly become unlivable. So I just have to tag it with a sticky note, which is great and all, but doesn’t keep my brain from mentally categorizing things every time I look at them. That picture will go in HHE. The spatulas will come by air freight, and the knife block needs to stay in the apartment! Shut up brain, I already know.

Honestly I’m just ready for the movers to come and be done with it. If they were coming tomorrow, I could make my piles of things and shut up my stupid brain. But alas, that will have to wait until next week.

In other news, I don’t really have any other news. I’ve probably bought more clothes and shoes in the last two weeks than in the entirety of my marriage, there are new suitcases lurking in odd corners, and I actually finished all my unfinished sewing projects (Mike has three pairs of newly hemmed pants and I learned how to put in a zipper). I get great satisfaction in crossing things off my to-do lists and I’m planning on buying 800 pounds of food and supplies from Costco next week so the government can ship it to China, where it will probably inhabit one of the spare bedrooms like my very own convenience store. I’m terrified by the thought of going grocery shopping for the first time in China but I’m excited to see what the bathroom in my apartment will be like.

I’m not sure what I expected my life to be like, but it most certainly wasn’t this.

Cheers (?)

Mrs. Hawsmo