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From Friend to Friend – Cycling Through London

Man Oh Man…

It has been FOREVER since I have done a cycle trip. It has been forever since I have felt I have had any space and time to sit down and write. Not that I have fans sitting on the edge of their chairs, digging their age lengthened nails into browning upholstery, waiting for anything new, because if I did… I would feel a mixture of sick, sad and “FUCK, I AM AWESOME AND TOTALLY WORTH THE WAIT.”

I am a high school teacher now, which means a series of things, some of which I won’t reveal because your students, no matter how hard you hide your art, your writing, your anything, they will find it.

STUDENTS: If you are reading this – Mr. C has a life outside of being a teacher. In this life of his, he does things that do not fall under the realm of teacherly duties. This, in fact, makes him or her or they a much better teacher, as he/she/they can draw from their own, varied lives to infuse their lessons with guts, with soul. But context is everything… so out of context, my art, my life, could be used against me. This is really sad that teachers are held at such a higher standard than other professions that are paid oodles more than teachers. We are not paid for 24 hours of work and yet after this post, ON – MY – BREAK, I will be marking. Blarg! Long sidebar.

Anyways, I visited my friend Aslam in London over the Passover  break for a couple days. Straight from work, disassemble the bike much to the chagrin of Igor, the former high school ruffian, who became a police to continue his reign of petty bullying and then on a plain, assemble and to Aslam’s. The visit was faaar too short, but so so lovely. He and his partner are beautiful humans, funny, honest, present, lots of lovely, intimate, eye contact, conversations and a PHOTO SHOOT. Oh, and an adventure at Wetherspoons. If you don’t what it is… google it. Aslam and Katy have a lovely place, with a nice patch if tall-growing green, an urban sanctuary, for tea and reads. After our visit, I headed to the centre of London to catch a train to Manchester to visit my friend, Rae, in Manchester.

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a home away from home

The Third Weekend…

I have been in China just over a 2 and half weeks and am finally feeling like the place that they have put me in, this spacious apartment, on the second floor in a compound full of similar buildings in a city I had never heard of before this job offer, this random, but warming place, is starting feel like a home. I don’t think it will ever be home home. It’s too empty. There is only one person in it. And I guess that could be a home to someone who was okay with single occupancy. And that might have been alright when I was of the single occupancy mind. But I am not that now. So a home away from home will do and I will make the best of these rooms and their four walls. I will adorn, I will garden, I will masturbate in every crevice. Kidding. I just have to keep you on your toes, right?

Because sometimes your school gifts you big boxes of pomelos pomegranates

Because sometimes your school gifts you big boxes of pomelos pomegranates

Jiaxing is a lovely city of 7 million, which is considerably small for China and ridiculously big for most other parts of this weekend amusement park filled planet. Last weekend I walked around and explored the sites and by sites I refer to things I found via google maps that looked mildly historical and possibly entertaining. Being a smaller Chinese city means that it is more accessible by foot. I have set up my phone so that it can pay for the City Bikes…but just because a system is set up, does not mean I have any clue as to how to operate it. I tried a few times to set of the city’s two wheeled jalopies free, scanning the QR code from different angles, staring at the bicycle like a concerned parent, whispering a muted curse into it’s hypothetical ear and then moving on before a Westside Story-esque fight broke out. I ventured towards my destinations, the “sites” of Jiaxing, through through clusters of malls and overpasses, through glares and gawks, passed “waigerens and laowais”, through beeps and snot rockets and stenches and fragrances. The first on my list was a temple that shot up like a magnified wart near the side of one of the rivers, a cluster of smaller structures and towers, white and brown and moldy.

my office

my office

The temple was currently inaccessible due to a ceremony going on within. I leaned up against the ancient welcoming post and peered in as the monks within the first inner shrine chanted, played instruments that echoed generations long dead, encircled by thick tornadoes of fragrant and blooming incense. After the ceremony I entered. The pictures say what I have no words to say. So I exited. Another temple down the way. This one, with a large inner courtyard. It was dedicated to a fallen General who had saved the Song Dynasty and was poisoned. More pictures.

p1

More walking. The city’s greenness, almost obnoxious, with its abundance, but so welcoming and so unexpected. I walked through several of the touristy, made to look as if they were ancient sections of a long forgotten and abandoned Chinese water town, that lined one of the canals. Historical Disneyfication and commodification. Though, we do the same thing to actual history. The BC version of it, Barkerville, cashes in on that every summer. And why not? You learn a little, an impression is made and context is given to faded words and histories. It makes the past tangible and kinetic. I guess, in this particular instant, you learn nothing if you cannot read the Chinese signs. All I can surmise from areas such as these is that at some point something like this might have existed somewhere around here. I read that last sentence. Trust me, I got this.

shrimp pork dumplings from my local RT Market

shrimp pork dumplings from my local RT Market

I walk through a park lined with beautiful trees that rise like Tolken spires or war spears, their tips piercing the blue vastness that expands to horizons on all sides. The path ends at a wooden pagoda at the Beijing to Hangzhou Grand Canal. I have seen this canal in both Suzhou and Hangzhou. It felt as if I was reconnected with a cousin that my mother had told me about and who I had met at I point in my life where I didn’t tie anything down to memories. There wasn’t much to say, but still I felt I had a duty to stop and view it with wonderment and curiosity. It definitely was and is a technical marvel, the longest man made canal in the world and it was created over 700 years ago.

sounds interesting. tastes boring.

sounds interesting. tastes boring.

Before leaving the extensive greenway, I stop on a small island, accessible by a gate to have a glimpse over South West Lake. I peer down on it from an ancient bridge. Jiaxing is beautiful. I needed this. Having left things and people I didn’t want to leave behind, nature was a comfort to the barren feels inside.

At the edge of the park, old men, dressed like the Chinese version of Grumpy Old Men play polo on two, official looking polo courts. I stop, watch and snap a few pictures. People really take leisure time seriously and really do spend it with their friends, families and loved ones. It’s really quite nice.

Fishing on the canal

Fishing on the canal

I stop into the house of a local resident who was one of the first people to translate Shakespeare into Chinese. He is long gone, but his house still stands, amongst modern constructions, byways and shlubbly dressed guards who wander aimlessly too and fro like poorly programmed baddies in an old school PC Shoot ‘Em Up . Today was a lot of walking. I peer through a small breach of a large, corroding fence that surrounds the Catholic Church that was partially destroyed by the Red Guard. It’s a beautiful structure is haunting; partially in part due to it’s dilapidated state. Renovations are on the table, right beside gay rights ;). Durian milk shake. Not sure about that. Kind of tastes like what, I imagine, an onion milkshake would taste like.

Delicious hot pot

Delicious hot pot

Marking, marking, marking, teaching, teaching, teaching. Planning, planning. Dinners with bosses. Presents for teacher day. Pillow of my face. Originally I was like, this is so strange to own a pillow with my own image on it. It’s grown on me. I’ve had more than a few naps on it. I fear I am going to wake up from a nice slumber and feeling a bit disoriented, come face to face, eye to eye, with pillow Ira, his facial expression slightly altered from what I remember it to have been. In that regard, pillow Ira is not to be trusted.

Mark, mark, buy some stuff on Taobao. BOX comes from Canada! Only took a month. Coffee from Canada. Candies. Break bodum. DAMN. Order another off Taobao. To explain, Taobao is the place to get anything ever online in China. It’s better than Amazon and doesn’t generally charge for shipping and it usually shows up in a few days, unless it’s ginormous. I am obsessed.

big box of treats

big box of treats

Yesterday night, I went to see Planet of the War of the World of the City of the Planet Again of the Apes. It was fun and it was great to hang out with my new teacher friends. Went to Moon River after and my bike lock key broke. Nevermind. Had some drinks, 45 minute walk home. Rinse, repeat and return. Today I went to museums. Words. Sometimes no. Pictures. Yes. Those. More soon. Right after I get through this Tower of Babel of papers.

Mooncake full of meat. Yum!

Mooncake full of meat. Yum!

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Ground Myself in Jiaxing

My complex.

My complex.

So this is what day number three feels like alone in another country, without a person or two wheel companion to share the experience with?

Wow. That sounded quite disheartening. And that’s not how I feel. I feel…okay. I see possibilities. In teaching. In an overgrown garden that needs tending and care. In a life that needs foundations cemented deep into Jiaxing’s soil for a year.

My school is wonderful thus far. I was picked up from the airport by the principal and a co-worker and driven the hour and a half from Shanghai to Jiaxing in the dead of night skies with no stars, guided by yellow street lights and straddled by gray buildings, trees and expanses of black. We arrived at my complex at 12am. My principal shows me the basics of my place. Here is the air conditioner controller for this room. Here is the air conditioner controller for that room. Here are some bananas. Here are the three TVs in your place, two of which sit beside each other, one flat screened and one an old tuber, like a father/son talk or an awkward visit to the old folks home where you are left to for an hour to have a conversation with your hard of hearing elderly relative. They look uncomfortable on the same shelf and I am uncomfortable with them both being them being there, because of the inutility of the older generation model and how much space it occupies. But, I shall not be bothered with that now. I fall into a sleep of sorts.

my pad for the next year.

my pad for the next year.

The sleep was not great. Jetlag is a newborn infant. You wake up every ten minutes or so. The sounds of a new place are unfamiliar and thus are whispering cruel things to me. The next day, I shower, eat one of the aforementioned bananas in cereal in a too small bowl that I will have to remember later on, and meet my principal outside to head to the school. I am ready. I am sleepless, but I am ready. She and several students show me the school. They show me the mediocre bathrooms (students words, not mine), the classrooms, the offices. The most exciting parts of the tour are self-revolving. MY DESK! MY CLASSROOM! The tour finishes and the principal returns to her office. My classroom is being used as a study hall. I sneak in and start to put up posters. But how can I sneak in? I am a Caucasian person in China. We cannot sneak anywhere. My students watch my every move. I am sleepless, but I am ready and I am choosing posters. I have too many for the space. Too many for a concert hall let alone a classroom. I will rotate them throughout the year. I have Goliath plans. I am dreaming and floating in a red sea of China. My name is spelled in pushpins on a green, felt board at the back of the classroom. Mr. Cooper. I am not Mr. Cooper. I speak with the principal. She okays it. I am Ira. I am Ira to everyone. There are no Mr. Coopers in my family. That generation was buried in 1994 with my grandfather in Toronto, Ontario. I am Ira.

entrance to my pad.

entrance to my pad.

The next couple days blaze by like the heat, heavy like the humid slog called air. I went to the nearby Decathlon, my first solo outing. I take a moment now to note that the lack of tense uniformity us due to the lack of it in my life currently. I am everywhere like a suped up Delorian. This is not a good time to interrupt with that sidebar. We were talking about Decathlon. Decathlon is an amazing sports store from Europe. I am wowed by their selection of camping gear. I have previously purchased a tent at one of these stores, in Beijing, in fact. It met a fate of cat claws and piss. I will purchase another one. Quelcha is an amazing French brand that makes these great two person tents that fools like me needn’t worry going out of their comfort zones to put up. I used it throughout my Europe bike trip. I will use it again, but this time, my plans involve some local bikepacking. I am giddy with the long haul options and the untranslatable unknown.

one of the many canals in Jiaxing.

one of the many canals in Jiaxing.

I eat a meal with the principal and a few teachers. Muslim food. I love Muslim Chinese food. It, like many other dishes, cannot be found in North America, except for a few, in the know, places. I nosh on noodles and potatoes and dumplings. There are more dumplings and buns to eat. My mouth unabashedly waterfalls at the thought of more.

I am on the hunt for a bike. Another teacher takes me to several outlets to check out what is available and at what price. I borrow a city bike and love every minute of the insanity of directionless cars, and tuktuks, and electric bikes, and stares and putrid canals and sounds and honks. The city bike is way too small for me and is rickity like the surrounding architecture. I will make my decision tonight as to where I shall purchase said two wheeler (as of two nights later, I am still undecided).

Yesterday, I complete my medical exams, which are comprised of a series of random tests, including having clamps attached to my legs and parts of my torso and stomach like a German dominatrix film, a series of squats, peeing into a cup (which was the hardest part, as they told me not to drink prior) and sticking uncleaned utensils in my nose and ears. After the medical, a co-worker took me for the local cuisine, zongzi, a sticky rice triangle, filled with meat or red bean paste. Delish!

Just in case you were unaware of where you were, which you might.

Just in case you were unaware of where you were, which you might.

That night, the teachers and principal went for a dinner at the mall. The mall is a strange and marvelous place of the gaudy and decrepit. A strange amusement park that screams R.L. Stein sits in the centre of the mall’s open forum. It includes a Ferris wheel, several roller coasters and a random, broke down prop plane. If you have a penchant for trusting shotty mechanics, I suggest you take a ride. I happen to be quite a fan of this little ditty called life, so I passed. Oh, I most definitely passed on the basement aquarium, complete with suicidal dolphins.

Teachers' dinner. One of many amazing dishes.

Teachers’ dinner. One of many amazing dishes.

The dinner was epic, fine dining. Shrimp and dumplings and fungus and salad and pork belly. OOOOOOOOH YEEEAH.

Next day was a wandering day. I headed to a used bike store I had heard about from my co-worker. It was an hour walk, but I decided it would be a good way to see the city. So I hoofed it and found the following things:

fuzzy chamber.

fuzzy chamber.

Walmart – I bought oatmeal and tiramisu Oreo. I have yet to try to Oreos. I feel they will disappointment, as were most side-bar ventures of Oreo in Central America.

Sleeping Monk

Sleeping Monk

A random, old temple – complete with dozing monk

A pork bun outlet – I consumed a pork and veggie bun. Yum.

The used bike store was pretty good, though ridiculously hard to find. A random room in an indistinct cinderblocked, crumbling factory. The bicycles made the room distinguishable from a place that one makes a mistake coming to and is promptly murdered or kidnapped for their erroneous decision.

Tonight, a colleague of mine will take me to Moon River, the central hub of tourism and alcoholism in Jiaxing. It should be a once in a life time experience, translating to a probably “been there, done that” evening. But YOLO, right kids?

Jiaxing living.

Jiaxing living.

 

Hilarious sign #1.

Hilarious sign #1.