First days - Sept.4-6

The plane lifts quickly, slowly, skyward. That age old contract between my belly and that of the Earth appears, for a split second, to disappear. A fire of change burning through Newton’s scrolls, freedom, then with a lurch of the stomach, reality descends again. And with this new reality, I remember those that I am leaving: beautiful souls that become a dream until they once again enter my life in a few months.

Rising, rising, piercing through the clouds, a veil between this life and the next. That strange function of memory and perception, now twisted, discoloured, as if a new stream enters this consciousness, lending its floating sediments. And now, I am stuck in-limbo for a time, at once excited about new experience, at once sad about what I have left behind.

Vancouver then hong Kong. Hong Kong: a city of wealth. A twenty minute sky-train runs to the city from the airport, although we do not have time to take it. Everyone speaks English it seems, is well dressed and the first class in-between flight lounges are lavish. “The best in the world,” I am told by Dr. John Chui with whom I am travelling to China.

We board the next flight and after a quick passs of ocean interceded by white and black clouds, we fly over Shantou. From the air, Shantou appears a multi-coloured expression of life. Tall skyscrapers in one patch, run-down huts in farmers’ fields in another, old-boarded-up building in another. All together in this city, all in the present, yet the tides of change seem to have swept inequally, leaving a patchwork-quilt effect.

We land, pick up our luggage and go through customs. The lady at customs seems concerned with the fact that my passport picture shows me with a beard which I no longer have, and pauses to make sure that I am indeed the owner. After we collect our luggage, I leave the cart a few meters behind the van we are taking to the University due to guard rails surrounding the parking lot. Dr. Chui runs back and tells me it is not good to leave luggage unattended.

At lunch, we are taken to a restaurant where we pick from a large selection of newly-butchured seafood. A fish head squirms and, thinking this novel and surprising for foreigners, Dr. Chui takes a picture for me. The lunch is delicious – a many coarse meal of many types of seafood: fish, prawns, oyster omelette all as a complement to the local specialty – duck. I learn it is always polite to serve others before yourself. Also, the head of the table (which is circular), is seated facing the door. Generally the host or most important guest, the head is then surrounded radially by people of decreasing stature. I am told it is best to wait for someone to seat me. I also learn the word for thank you.. It is xie xie (she-eh, she-eh).

After lunch, I am taken to wal-mart. A break of ethics for me, certainly. I buy all the necessities – some small amounts of food, tea, sweets, laundry detergent, soap, razor. I learn that bank cards don’t really work, so I will need to topen a new acccount and wire my money in.

My new apartment is a small one-bedroom. It takes about 1/2 hour to get the electricity and water on, and then, due to a fuss about my having no blinds or laundry machine, I am taken to the medical school guest houses. The rooms there are quite nice – like a hotel. My instruments were left in the old room in a closet since I was told that the new room would be in a hostel.

We are now rushed to dinner for which we are late, where I meet Dr. Frieda Law, her assistant Maggie, and the other English teachers at the medical school. The food was excellent, and the company was good. The greatest challenge of the meal was holding my eyes open. I was very tired from the 24-hour flight and all of the change made my mind thirsty for sleep and dreams.

And now, I am escorted back to my quarters by tour bus and given a temporary cell-phone. My body rejoices in the immediacy of sleep.