Harmonious 3-Wheel Motion: City of Dust to City of Wind

Just got into Chi-town. People are "bigger-boned" here, and I can't help but notice how clean the air is. FYI: not as many Chinese people here.

Anyway things been kind of hectic in the motherland and have not had chance to update this piece as frequently as I'd like. Below is an anecdote from when I first moved into my apt.

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China. Anything is possible.

My first night after moving into my apartment, I go grocery shopping at the Western grocery shop, Jenny Lou's. I head back to my new crib with a huge jug of water, ramen noodles, chips, paper towels, toilet paper, etc. It is getting late, and there is not much lighting on my street. In NY, this lack of lighting would probably give me pause at this hour, but since I'm in China (and a cab driver told me China is very safe still so you know that fact has got to be true) I am not as concerned. Walk up to the front entrance where a few hours earlier I had brought in my 2 suitcases with all my worldly possessions in this hemisphere.

The gate is now locked. I wasn't given a key for this gate. I just have keys to my apartment door locks.

Hmmmmm.

I wonder if this is something akin to the non-24 hour elevator attendant system, where after midnight residents have to hoof it up the stairs. Is it some residual communist thing where Central Command dictates that you must be back in your home unit by 12am or it's tough t*tty for you? I am lugging all these groceries, and for those of you who know me well certainly know I do not take great pleasure in lugging. I hate lugging in fact.

I walk around to the left of the building, lugging. No other entrance. I walk to the right, lugging. I see some guys go into a building next to mine. I think maybe there is an entrance through the basement that connects the 2 buildings. I follow them down the steps, lugging. At a distance of course. Lugging all these groceries, I'm not trying to signal any intimations that I'm creeping on a come up. Enter this basement, and the surroundings remind me of Fight Club. I hear all this yelling from various directions. A Chinese Tyler Durden? Do people actually live down here? It is also reminiscent of Zion from the Matrix (not from Ludlow St). So surreal. Where the fock am I?!!!

I decide to lug me and my groceries right back up to the street. I am at a loss. I call Uncle Andy and rouse him from bed.

"Hey Uncle Andy, sorry to bother you so late, but is it possible the building locks its front entrance so that there is no access later at night?"

"Well it's China, so anything is possible."

Great. Not what I was hoping to hear in the near pitch dark standing in front of the locked gate, lugging groceries. I am about to toss my groceries over the fence and climb over, but then I see some people walk out of this entrance down the block. I decide to investigate, and I find this walkway that leads me down some circuitous, dimly lit path to the back of my...building. Home sweet home.

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Speaking of my abode, this is where the magic (of my Chinese absorption) happens. My laoshi (teacher) comes to my place five times a week, and I figured out how to record her--hence the headset--onto my computer for my own personalized Chinese podcasts. Word to the ni hao .