DAY 1

And God said: ‘Let there be light.’, and there was Tony.

My saviour, my guide...

He was a little man (more or less my height), with dark hair that seemed to grow in all directions, roguishly sticking out exactly where they were not supposed to. His very Chinese small dark eyes observed me inconspicuously through rectangular glasses as he swiftly grabbed one of my suitcases and we walked towards the elevators.  His movements were confident, although it seemed that the assuredness was a result of many times repeated routine rather than natural part of him. Under all that, I could sense he is nervous as I would have been if I wouldn’t be distracted by the tiny little insignificant detail of being in SHANGHAI.

I was tired to death so, naturally, I entered the last stage before coma- hyperactivity- and I ambushed the poor boy with questions and all the gibberish I wasn’t able to share with anyone during my never-ending journey.  He listened to me and calmly answered my question when I gave him a second to express himself. As we were trying to load the suitcases to the truck and find our way to the seats on the bus, he gently revealed to me the scary truth of our whereabouts for the day. We were to take the bus to my apartment, where I would sign the lease and sorted out the rent. Then we had to go to the police as to register me with public organs if anything happened... and he would take me to the super market to do some shopping... and... Apropos, the company wants to see you today to get to know you a little, he mentioned as if it was nothing.

I was slowly dying inside, little by little, while my mouth was saying we also need to go to the bank to exchange my money because I did not have time to do it at home. This was going to be the longest day of my life (I already had a few of those and the idea of having another one wasn’t exactly thrilling).

However, as the bus left the station, I ceased to care about any of that. I stared out of the window fascinated by every tree (even though it did not look special or different at all) or a road sign which would bare Chinese characters... along with English translation, this was a highway after all.

Step by step, with my unaffected share-it-all-or-nothing attitude, I gained Tony’s confidence and managed to also acquire some personal information which would help me find out who was the person sitting next to me.  If I was to spend a day with someone I wanted to know who I was dealing with. 

Well (in short because I do not want to compromise his privacy), Tony was born in a village close to Shanghai. He moved to the city after his graduation two years ago. Since then he has been working for the agency. He liked playing sports and did not like answering questions about himself. He was shy, but I sensed a bit of mischief hiding somewhere inside, contemplating whether it was safe to come out.

The city was... huge... filled with people.... full of contrasts... shaggy apartment buildings shadowed by futuristic giants made of glass and steel, the noise of traffic hungrily swallowing all the other sounds... Buildings so colourful it was hard to look at them, buildings so dull they were too easy to miss. Shanghai was not about tradition or history... it was a loud, proud roar of the future underlined by an impressive skyline.

Suddenly, Tony jumped up and told me we were getting of... it seemed a bit random and as I found out later that’s because it was. We got off the bus in the middle of an insanely busy street. Cars, bicycles and scooters were rushing by honking at each other.  He beckoned me to wait for him while he went to ask a random street vendor about some, to me unknown, business.

He came back to me smiling, ignoring my question whether my apartment was nearby... ‘We are going for lunch’, he proclaimed, grabbed one of my suitcases again and launched himself in direction of what I understood to be a pedestrian zone, leaving me to scurry behind him with very feeble reminiscence of energy supplies. He stopped and turned ‘Do you like KFC?’

I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. I vaguely remembered eating at KFC once or twice few years ago... honestly, I am not what you could refer to as a ’fast-food fan‘ (now speaking of the French fries and buns involving fast-food). I never was and I never will be simply because I like to indulge in the tastes and textures... and fast-food has a very limited supply of those... Firstly, I wasn’t hungry at all. Secondly, I would so rather go to any kind of Chinese food selling place but it was time for me to capitulate.  Tony looked excited, plus he would have to drag me around the city for the rest of the day during the time of sinister heat radiating from every inch of the surface (although no one seemed to mind it except me).

I scuttled behind him as fast as I could. For such a small person he could walk really fast. Despite the fact that I was absolutely unfit to mange two activities at the same time, I curiously examined my environment. We entered some sort of pedestrian area among buildings which seemed to be occupied by shopping centres, restaurants and offices. I noticed girls wearing umbrellas to protect themselves against the sun.  How silly, I thought. Tony said that all the girls tried to stay as white as possible, it was matter of fashion... strange but according to me still far more reasonable then getting an artificial tan and ending up looking like a dried out orange when you are only in your twenties. Despite all that, the umbrellas still seemed quite amusing to me (until I few hours later-after walking around streets of Shanghai under that pitiless sun shine- that it was, after all, a quite sensible and convenient thing to do).

We entered the KFC. If I was attracting unreasonable amount of attention up till then, this was ten times worse. I think the fact that I dragged along two suitcases wasn’t exactly helping. The place was heaving with people but we found us some seats at last. Tony asked me to wait while we went to order the food. I looked around and tried to watch people... listen to the tone of their conversations, watch their body language... it was insanely difficult to this without being caught. My ‘blend in and explore unnoticed’ strategy was not going to work in China. Actually, I knew that immediately but I was too exhausted to fully understand the consequences I would have to deal with in time to come.

Our next stop was the bank as I needed to exchange the currency. But before I had the pleasure to enter that financial heaven with air-conditioning I was forced to undergo a life changing experience: I crossed the road in Shanghai and survived! It was incredible... Green man or no green men... it did not matter...  cars, bicycles, scooters, buses... Plus the road was 50 meters wide...  Tony warned me that even though there is a green light, cars still can turn right which was quite normal except for the fact here they did not care whether they run over couple pedestrians. However, Tony seemed do poses a secret power to move at the right time to the right place... every time I was only a half a step behind him the cars honked like crazy in protest. I was impressed by his magic powers (Later I found out that cars in Shanghai honk while making their way through intersection just for the sake of it... to scare away the enemy and other poor inexperienced human beings like me.

My experience from the bank was pleasant and sort of funny considering I had to fill in tons of paper all written in Chinese characters so to me I could have been signing all kinds of things and I would not know about it... I was tired and completely dependent on Tony so, I did not care because it wouldn’t change a thing. When I gave my passport to the guy behind the glass, he inspected it seriously then took it to the back (but I could still see them) and summoned his colleague...  He pointed at something on my passport and.... both of them burst out laughing...  very funny boys, very funny... but I have a good and generous heart so I forgave them.  ;)

One thing I really loved was a little machine with emoticons as buttons indicating extremely happy face, happy face, neutral face, sad face and angry face... Well this was an opportunity to express your satisfaction with the service provided.

                                                                                                    SOHO ART HOME FROM THE OUTSIDE

Finally we took a taxi which would take me ‘home’.  The place was called SOHO ART HOME underlined with slogan: Living with art. Well, they weren’t kidding. On the ground floor, there was gallery which was just preparing for a new exhibition. Next three floors were majorly occupied with studios and companies all somehow involved in arts... the last three floors were crowded with small apartments. What I loved about the building was that there were statues, baiting and random drops of art randomly standing in the hall ways... I signed the contract, payed and finally entered what was to become my humble dwelling for the summer. It was new, clean and quite spacious considering it was just for me... there was small living room with TV and a sofa, desk and small kitchen in the corner (speaking of kitchen in very abstract terms as a corner with one cupboard, sink and a fridge with freezer)... then, naturally, bathroom and bedroom which gave on the city.

  VIEW FROM MY WINDOW

Oh God... this blog is becoming too long... I will just speed it up.

Being rid of my suitcases splashed me with a new wave of energy. I packed my bag with essential and we headed out to the streets of Shanghai once and again. First stop was police station as to get me registered as a temporary inhabitant. After that it was time to go to the company where I finally could give a face to the voice that interviewed me... but about that I will write more in a special edition dedicated to my job. :D

I was informed I would be starting on Tuesdays because Monday was a day of Chinese Dragon-boat festival. It is organised to commemorate a patriotic poet, Qu Yuan,  from Chu State in the Warring States period (around 340 before Christ)n who drowned himself in the river because he couldn’t bear what was happening to his country (whatever that was)...Now, that I call dedication. The most popular food during the festival is so called rice dumpling wrapped up in bamboo leaves.  The day of the festival, May 5th in the Chinese lunar calendar (which happened to be June 6th in the Western calendar this year) is therefore a national holiday... Thus I had one more day to breathe through the stages of total panic (alias Why do I continue doing this to myself voluntarily?) and crazy empowering excitement which would come and go in regular intervals during those few days.

RICE DUMPLING

QU YUAN, THE POET 

At last Tomy took me to the supermarket to buy some necessities... However, going to a supermarket turned out to be quite a cultural experience through which I go every week at least once, so I will take the liberty to write about it in some of the next bits...

I opened the door of my apartment... finally... I could sleep... as long as I wanted!

I took a shower and carelessly messed up my carefully packed suitcases to find my pyjama... Then, with such pleasure and joy you would not even dare to imagine, I jumped to the bed and..... OUCH!

The mattress, or what I thought was a mattress because it was disguised like one, was in fact a constellation if to wooden plates connected by more or less flexible strings ... strings or no strings, wood just stays wood. If I had at least a tiny little bit of power left I would probably cry... but I just took my blanket and my pillow, crawled to the living room, curled up on the sofa and passed out...

The journey

I checked in at the counter and passed through all the security checks in order to get to the assigned gate. There is nothing special to pin point about it... I did all those actions (ruthlessly tattooed to my cerebral cortex by authorities using revolutionary method of overpowering countless repetition) with automatic efficiency. In theory, I am capable of removing my jacket, belt, any accessories, mobile, lap-top and other metal objects in my sleep... that did not come out right... oh well...

My first destination was Moscow, where I would have to wait five hours for the connecting flight to Shanghai. I would like to count it as my first time in Russia but I am afraid that staying in neutral Duty Free zone doesn’t count as a meaningful visit. Anyhow, as I waited for the boarding to start, I noticed that majority of passengers flying to Moscow were already Chinese. I have to admit... for the first time in my life I started to feel as a minority. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a Chinese girl sitting next to me write a text message on her Iphone in Chinese. It was fascinating. She either wrote the word down phonetically in our alphabet (which would automatically transformed into particular sign) or she would draw the sign while the phone would simultaneously narrow down possible choices allowing her to add the one she wanted to the message with one click.  

Curiosity started to spread through my veins like epidemics. Suddenly, those unimportant twenty hours ahead of me seemed to acquire scary magic of eternity and unbearable gravity of volcanic rocks. I hid my face behind the book and tried to block out that nagging feeling of being stuck in a waiting room. I spent the whole flight lost in thought. I tried to continue reading but I could hardly concentrate, especially since the book was in French (I would like to keep in my head as long as possible all I learned in France... even though it means endless suffering when I cannot advance in a captivating story as fast as I would like to... we all have to make sacrifices)... my brain was plotting curious... time to time almost lunatic scenarios again, although anything was better than facing the impenetrable barrier of time which happens to appear, quite inconveniently, exactly when we wish for time to pass like sand pours through fingers.

My short stay at Russian airport turned to a big smudge almost immediately after I left the place... Fatigue initiated its attack on my defenceless body since I was arrogant enough to omit my sleeping time to silly four hours before the departure. I remember going through security check again and refusing to go to terminal F earlier then really necessary sensing that for some reason or other air-conditioning was an abstract term for that particular part of the airport... I remember drinking one of the worst coffees I have ever had the ‘pleasure’ to pay for... I remember very amusing evil chit-chat with Katarina... rather innocent phone call with my mom... an innocent glance game with handsome guy at the passport check... and I remember wishing very dearly for this journey to be over.

By the time I got on the board of SU 572 to Shanghai, I was too exhausted to pay any special attention to my environment... especially when I knew I will not be able to sleep almost at all. In my mind all airplanes were like evil machines designed to keep me awake at all cost. Usually that would not be an issue, I like to use the ‘space time’ to read and study. You would be surprised how much being stuck in a tight seat for several hours like a sardine in a can (now specifically addressing one anonymous airline called Ryanair) makes you want to feel like a decent human being full of potential once again... so I dedicate my time to intellectual growth and reflection (or as some other people call it- staring into space). Long flights... those are entirely different matter. I like to sleep. I like it very, very much and anything or anyone keeping me away from nice and cosy AND attached-to-earth bed is getting on my Black list. Thus, I was nostalgically longing for the times when flying was new and exciting...

When I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself and took a quick look around me, I found myself surrounded by Chinese (not in a bad sense, it was only an observation... very obvious one since we were sailing through the darkening sky to Shanghai)... This is the first time I noticed the curious glances. Time to time I would catch someone observing me. I was warned about it in the brochure the agency sent me and was told not to take it negatively; it was matter of curiosity... Although, the situation made me feel a bit uneasy, I do not like to be observed. Naturally, I was not the only stranger on the board... there was a black girl (she was very pretty) sitting next to me who ‘enjoyed’ even more attention. Though, I must admit I sensed nothing but sincere interest in those looks.

The night was stretching seconds to minutes and minutes to hours. I read for quite a while but when my eyes rebelled against my tyranny and refused to cooperate I shut the book, lowered my seat and through a blanket over myself. I closed my eyes and let my mind flow listening to quiet conversations mingled with distant echo of someone’s Ipod. My breathing slowed... reality began to blend with dreams... I breathed deeper and deeper... when BAM!!! The girl next to me gently brushed her elbow against mine while changing position... I was up!

Now you see what I mean about my sleeping-on-the-board issues?

This scenario repeated itself in annoyingly regular intervals throughout the night. Closer the little airplane on the screen got to the little black dot marked Shanghai, more and more restlessness grew inside me. It wasn’t anxiety or fear but rather the kind of feeling you get before opening a Christmas present. I almost laughed out loud with joy when the pilot announced we will be landing in less than 40 minutes. The weariness was gone in seconds.

When I started to sort out my belongings, the girl next to me glanced at my book, then at me:

‘Tu parles français?’ she asked curiously.

‘Mais, oui... Je vois que toi aussi… mais beaucoup plus mieux que moi.’ I smiled, ‘ Tu viens d’où?’

‘Je viens de Paris…’

The pretty black girl who sat next to me all the way from Moscow was Iman (if I remember it right). She grew up in Paris but had origins in one of the Africa’s states name of which I cannot remember. This was her second journey to Shanghai as she spent there one summer as an intern some time ago. Now, she was returning for few days to celebrate her friend’s wedding. I found her quite interesting, plus she gave me some good tips as on what definitely not to miss while I am here. Despite the fact she distracted me a little bit from my inpatient inner monologues, it was the longest landing in my air-services-related history (this time I mean in literally... sadly this was not one of my exaggerated phantasmagorias). After landing we were driving up and down the runways for at least 20 minutes... the universe was pulling my leg but if universe had a big fat ass I would kick it so badly, it would think twice before doing this to me again! (Clearly, I was emotionally distressed ;) )

When we finally got off the plane, I was nicely directed to walk down the longest terminal ever built... Thank God that was the last record breaking event of the journey... I passed the visa control, picked up my luggage, said Iman goodbye and walked towards the exit with nice tickle of excitement in my stomach.

I was in Shanghai!

 First image I saw was people... a lot of people standing next to each other, all of them searching for someone on the other side... my side. Throwing a fleeting glance on the faces assured me that despite the photo in my pocket the best thing to do would be follow and read one after another white papers of which one should bear my name. I walked, step by step, making sure I did not miss anything when... I saw it. Written in long slick letters:

BARBORA JASSOVA

I stopped and looked up. He returned my glance with a question on his face. I nodded in approval. We smiled at each other and he beckoned me to follow him.

That’s how I met Tony.

A bit of blah-blah before I get to the point

‘Wish me luck.’ I smiled nervously.

‘Well, that’s the only thing I can do. You jumped, now swim.’ He replied resolutely and embraced me in a firm hug.

‘I know that, don’t worry...’ I murmured as we held each other for a moment ignoring the hustle around us.

‘I have to go now...’he released me and sighed, ‘Take care and don’t forget to call.’ giving me one last kiss on the cheek and reassuringly squeezing my shoulder, he headed towards the door.

‘See you in August...’ I said as I watched my dad walk away but the words have never reached him, dissolving almost instantly in bubbling noise of morning rush hour at Viennese airport.

So, there I was again, sitting on a bench surrounded by suitcases and pretending to study the departure board a little bit too intensely. In twenty four hours from now I will be in Shanghai, I thought to myself... yet this idea did not make me nervous or apprehensive at all. I was about to travel and work in a country of which language I don’t speak at all, of which culture is (to a certain extend) alien to me, of which I knew nothing but few fragments of superficial knowledge... in a country where I knew no one and yet I wasn’t nervous, I wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t scared at all... I sat there, calmly waiting for my flight to Moscow appear on the board.

I started to play with the idea of going for an internship in early September, just after my arrival in France. I started to realize that despite of my travelling all my experience (speaking in CV related terms) was purely of an educational character rather than practical. My approaching graduation was smiling at me from the distance and I thought this might the time to start thinking ahead. The truth was that I was going to graduate in couple years from a degree that made me suitable for everything and nothing and for which I did not particularly care about. All I wanted from it was to learn French and Italian, to BE in Scotland... to continue my disorganized research of human nature and this logically chaotic world. I got what I wanted... but sadly we live in a society obsessed with identity cards, certificates, diplomas and all the other different kinds of non recyclable paper which tells the world the truth it wants to hear and which very easily transformed into statistics.

Well, I have a few very lovely ideas about my life which I would like to transform into reality and, so far, I believe I am doing quite well. In any case, a view of a struggling artist spending his tragic existence in desperate fight against whatever it is he or she is against, does not appeal to me. I rather associate myself (although in much more abstract form) with an image of super intelligent and genius ‘villain’ who seems to be respectful member of the society while through his secret life, he defies its laws, and rebels in the most refined manner. There is no point running with your head against the wall... after all the greatest conquests were never achieved with force. So, going around talking and arguing with people to prove my point is not really my thing... it’s a waste of time. We all believe in different things and nurture different values... there was never written in stone any of them are false, because the only non-relative fact is that everything IS RELATIVE.

You don’t have to share my beliefs. If what you do makes you happy, fulfilled and hurts no one in a terrible way... then you are heading in the right direction and I am happy for you. As for me, I will take the liberty of not saying anything on behalf on my envisioned personal sci-fi story... mainly because all my arguments are still far from being factual and without facts I am building my life on a shaky hypothesis... but I will take the risk. Now is the high time to get back to my Shanghai story before I bore you to death! Where was I?

Well, I was in need of working experience for personal and professional reasons, so I started my research formerly looking for a nice paid internship in Scotland (after all I fell for the country with its crooked story-telling streets, lovely accent, men in kilts and other monsters...) but soon I realised that no such thing is going to happen, since many British companies have fallen into a bad habit of   making you pay for your work. Given that I had no hidden vault full of diamonds in Gringotts Bank, I had to start to look elsewhere. As the fate had it, I came across this one by accident or, to be more accurate, out of pure curiosity. And then, I saw it.... an internship in a Chinese company offering language solutions, involving teaching, editing, proofreading with possibility to contribute to course structure, in Shanghai, reserved only for English native speakers. Almost impossible! Awesome!

So, I rewrote my old CV completely... gave it some form and style, updated old information and produced the best motivation letter I ever wrote (it was my first one but still, I deserve some creditJ). I filled out the application and sent the e-mail... From that moment on all took up an unstoppable speed. The agency sent my profile to the company who contacted them, saying they are interested in me and thus the agency sat up an interview via Skype. I was very ill, since a bacteria decided to build Hollywood size mansion in my throat at the time, so I was inevitably under the influence of extremely strong antibiotic. In practice, it would knock me out for the most part of the day making me a sleeping beauty... or, let’s be honest, rather a fluffy, puffy dead-white beast. Due to that unfortunate fact I do not recall much from my interview, only that it took place at 3 am my time, I woke up and probably said something smart and to the point because two days later I received an e-mail announcing my acceptance.

Since then, I went through feelings of complete terror to total apathy... recreating in my head scenarios of absolute success as well as not so happily ending scenarios of me being unknowingly used by mafia to smuggle drugs and being caught and imprisoned for life... but I got through this drill as always. I cannot stop my brain from doing this to me... exploring every possibility where my imagination plays its part to scare me to death with all the lively details. Most importantly, this whole issue grew into a whole new dimension when I realised that this was the best thing I could ever decide on, even though I wasn’t so sure of it at the beginning. Not because of the professional experience, but for the desperate need to retrieve my balance, to gain a new perspective on my life and what to do with it next. I have only one chance and I want to do it right. There is nothing more exciting than being forced to concentrate on the present moment with every inch of your body... to be able to perceive, breathe in, accept and embrace so far unseen, so far unexplored environment. It saves us from falling into trap of pettiness and all those little trivial problems we sometimes treat as a matter of life and death.

Thus, I sat there, tired but calm, reading my book, keeping an eye on departure board, ignoring the crowds hassling around me and passing by in hurry.

Passengers travelling to Moscow, flight SU 242, you may now proceed to check in at counters 88-89 please...