utility in humility

in deed, in a word

There are days when the world rolls and you feel yourself at a crawl. Time stands still, and you can only watch it all unfold in slow motion.

Apparently, after all of my travels, I am still learning a thing or two about tourist visas. While it is my 5th entry into mainland China [over 10 years], it is only my first time entering on a tourist visa.

The Continental Airlines staff of Newark, NJ refused to let me check in properly, as my return trip date exceeded the 90 days limit of the [L] visa. But... wasn't it a one-year, multiple-entry visa, I posed? Unfortunately, they look at the maximum stay for each entry, which is 90 days... and I had no proof of departure within that time frame. This was the first hint of my traveling neophytis. She justified the hassle by saying that her job would be jeopardized and a $20k fine would be imposed should I arrive in Beijing without proof of timely return. Not to mention that they would promptly ship, or rather fly, me back to the States, she threatened.

And that is how she so kindly helped me to purchase a $2930 one-way refundable ticket back to the states on June 2. The key word is 'refundable', meaning I *should* be able to gain entry into the country, and promptly refund the ticket aft. It was a moment of trust that I could not outwardly argue with.

lingually refreshed

After 6 weeks of being in an English-only environment, I had a small refresher sitting on the direct flight from Newark to Beijing. The elderly Wuhan couple sitting next to me could only speak Mandarin, and so we conversed over light topics. The display monitors had stopped displaying any Mandarin equivalents, and it was just as well. I translated such terms as ground speed, distance covered, altitude, and the like. It provided an opportunity to converse with this friendly couple. While he quizzed me inquisitively about tea, she sat between us with her eyes closed. He was a jovial soul, and bragged about my Mandarin skills to the woman across the aisle. Most foreigners on the flight, after all, were on their first flight to the mainland. The glory was short-lived, anyhow.

utility taxings

Assuming that one has gained successful entry into a country such as China, the first few days back in Beijing can prompt one to feel not just faraway, but also far behind. And so, I can only try to fit in. There is much to be done, and I am unsure how to tackle most of the tasks.

My 'new' apartment awaited my return. And unreservedly demanded my prompt attention.
• The plaster walls are falling apart (otherwise known as the Tao of Plaster).
• The tiles appear to be like new, but the grout job was never properly cleaned, and so a thick matte of grunge enshrouds every line, begging for more elbow grease than ay airline dare allow one to safely carry on.
• My apartment has but a few rudimentary outlets and begs for a bit of new wiring.
• My hot water is nowhere to be found.
• The washing machine is not plumbed.
• My gas stove begs for gas to light it's way.
• My zip code is mysteriously absent from my renter's contract. Where exactly am I?
• I am without potable water and need to order a few carboys of water, delivered.
• I am without Internet. Or rather... aside from the spotty, stolen wireless connection, I am without a defined access point. Furthermore, the phone that I must use to set up this connection is missing a power cord.
• I, being the foreigner that I am, need to register with the local police within 24 hours of arrival. Only problem is that I was *mainland* for closer to 48 by the time my landlord was able to escort me...

And of course the list does not end here. A larger problem is... how to approach solving these problems? My Mandarin characters are lacking in an undeniable way, and this limits me from hopping online to sort out these *routine* matters.

tongue tied

While I am able to communicate *which* problems I am facing, I struggle to set my feet upon the right path to solving them.

As a first step, I visit the maintenance crew of my apartment complex, apparently interrupting a visit from the worker's wife. She shoos me away in quest of a call with my landlady. These matters should be handled by the owner, of course. In fact, I only wanted to hear confirmation of what I already knew; I just wanted a line of defense should the landlady deflect my request.

A call with her leaves me to asking the real estate agency with which I signed the contract. They in turn tell me to ask the landlady. Sigh. There isn't enough eagerness in the world that could help me find the right person to ask.

I remind myself that they have all spoken the truth. The problem, stated rather indirectly, is my own. The problem is but for my own lacking that I cannot solve these matters singly-handed. Or doubly-handed, for that matter.

And so I was prepared to kowtow to my landlady. Relieve myself of any surviving pride and bow with fervent pleading - what better way to convey that one is truly in need of help?

Humility arrives not in stealth-like fashion, but more so as the unkempt town crier bearing truth.