Endurance

You can tell a lot about a country by how their customs operate.

Canada, the US, Guatemala and Honduras at least, they want to know what you're bringing in. Sure you need a passport but they ask you if you have this that or the other thing. Also where you visited and where you're going.

Nobody at Shanghai Pudong ever asked me what was in my bag. Nobody on the plane passed out a customs sheet to claim anything. What they did do is make me fill out a form that wanted to know exactly where I was staying, for how long, etc... What they did do was fingerprint me twice as well as take a photo. Stand in line forever. All of this before baggage claim. When I did get my bags I walked through the exit. That's it. I could have brought anything.

Conclusion. China wants you to feel watched. China cares more about control than somebody bringing in too much alcohol or cocaine. I'm not really surprised, I was just stunned that nobody was even there to stop anyone and ask questions about "what's in the bag?"

The adventure. Oh boy. So after being at the airport 3 hours early and then flying and traveling for 16 hours, I arrive in Shanghai. I could never tell you if Shanghai is beautiful, picture attached of what I saw.

So I fill out this form and can't find the address of the school. I had paid for internet earlier in the flight but it had expired. No cell service, no internet, no problem. Shanghai Pudong is a modern international airport, they will for sure have Wi-Fi. I get in and sure enough, bingo. You need a phone number to get a code texted to you with a login key. Fubar. There's also a kiosk option too. All of the kiosks are on the other side of customs...

For someone who's never read the book "Catch 22" I am very familiar with the term thank you very much.

This is fine. I've been up for 20 hours, I can handle this. I ask the guy that was sitting next to me on the plane, "Hey, how important is this address?" He answers, "Uh, they'll send you back."

"Really?"

"Yeah, no joke. I've seen it happen."

This is fine.jpeg

Plan, get in line and find a person around me with internet access to look up the address of the school. It's a good plaaaann great plan.

So here's the rub. I'm an American. I know, shocker. I try not be your stereotypical American though. I try to research and be sensitive to other cultures when I go to visit them and whatnot. I do, however, fall into some classic American traps. For example. Like most, if not all of the people around you are going to speak English, especially if they're white. I warn you now good sirs and madams, this assumption will leave you with deep disappointment and sadness in the customs line at Shanghai Pudong. "Mi Scusi?"

So now I have to duck out of line and talk to a bunch of strangers. A bunch of strangers. Finally, I find a cool cat from Scotland who'll hook me up. Get it all inked in. Remember all those bunches of people I mentioned before? They come into play now.

Now the line is at least twice as long as it was before. I'm sweating from nervousness and 111% humidity. Finally get to the front and I was so focused on the address part I forgot to fill out the other half of the form. I managed to do that from memory though.

Being as delayed as I was the carousel that had been carrying my baggage was now being used for another plane, how rude! And the Chinese, being the efficient and friendly operation that they are, have removed my bags and taken them into the back. Another line!

It took me an hour and a half to finally get out of that nightmare of my own causing and through customs. My poor driver had been waiting a total of two hours. Bless that tiny Chinese man. If he had been gone there's no telling what I would have done in the effort to get the Chinese to deport me.

He informs me that because I was late now there's traffic, it'll be three hours to Zhangjiagang, but he encourages me to sleep.

I have a theory. The horn was invented in China. I think this because they seem to be very proud of it, and seem to have perfected making them as loud as a hyena orgy. There was no sleep in that car.

Finally, I get to the apartment complex. 25 hours later. I'm met by my contact and sponsor, Evangeline and another teacher from the school. They dote on me. They try and accommodate me. They offer to take me out for food. They are very nice and I am very tired. I don't want to go buy a bunch of water I need beddy by. So they show me to my apartment building. My apartment, it's on the fifth floor, and I only have 80 pounds of luggage strapped to my body and in my hands. Never skip leg day kids.

You may not believe me but I did it in one go. I've never been so sweaty in my life. Evangeline tries to show me what all the switches and buttons inside the apartment do. I tell her to just show me how the A/C works and I'll press all the buttons in the morning. The good news is there is, in fact, A/C, and each bedroom has it's own unit. There has never been greater news. I show the ladies the door. I use the complimentary bar of soap that they gave me in my welcome kit as shampoo, face wash, and body wash, not having the energy to search my bags for the bathroom supplies I bought. I set my alarm and lay naked on the bed without having dried off, having not bothered to look for a towel either. I then fall into what is probably the deepest and most restful sleep I have ever had. I am then woken up 11 hours later by what can only be a car driving into a 20-foot diameter gong over and over.

I am not even mad.