Buses

Today I was undercharged for copies. I realized after the fact. Copies should realistically be cheap- a penny a side, but you know, I’m printing… well, 1300 sides and 640 sides, so…

A lot of sides. I’m going to get the class e-mails and have the kids print out their own scripts, I think. That’ll be easier on my wallet, and I’ll choose parts of the script to have and other parts to ignore so they don’t have to print the whole thing.

Because each time I print things, I feel like I kill a tree. And while waste is not a concern in China (did you see in the previous movie, my Sunday plastic falls through the opening at the bottom of the trash can?) (Well, not a major concern in Kaifeng, anyway), my good ol’ American guilt kicks in. At least I can perform well in this circumstance.

The water damage is… growing. Today it stopped raining, but my 25cm has grown into 37cm, and it’s taken over the wall. It’s visible outside, too. I’m not sure what is going to be done about it, if the leaves on the trees have been removed (apparently they were blocking the gutter). And now, it’s gotten the carpet damp. I already had black mold on my toilet, I don’t want more in my carpet. When it rains next, if the damage continues, I’ll ask Jackie if anyone has done anything about this leak.

The last iris is blooming while other flowers are dying in my bouquet. It’s so sad. I’ like to maybe buy one each week or something to have fresh flowers. They’re so pretty. And they liven up the room, they really do. I’m only sorry they have to…die. Maybe if I hang some upside down, they’ll dry out. Hmm. Hmm.

Went to the police station to get our foreigner’s thing, found out I have a “foreign expert’s certification” which means I don’t have to pay duty. Sweeeet. Sweet. The police station thing is essentially our permission to stay in China. For longer than three months. It acts like a visa, and is yet another thing to put into my passport.

Then we ate at McDonalds, and I was sleepy.

Today I want to talk about buses. Buses. Some people in the states know them. Some people in the states do not know of them. But buses are these box-like vehicles which have many people on them. In public buses, you also have poles and handles that run along the length of the bus for people to hold onto. In Japan, you’ll even have little circles hanging from the hooks to help the old ladies.

So in Japan, buses pay when you get off the bus (honesty policy, I dunno). If you’ve been on a while you have to pay more, and you get on in the middle and you exit through the front. There are bus drivers who are fit, and look like bellboys- usually male, and usually in uniform with white gloves. Truly, these buses are as close to on time as buses can be, and they follow the rules to a T. Like all public transport, they are well used and kept clean and tidy.

American buses- I don't ride them that often. They are not as tidy, you pay up front, and the drivers are usually seen as making ends meet, overweight (though not all are), and they supposedly drive aggressively. After being in Kaifeng, I can safely say nobody in the states drives aggressively. I promise.

Well, in China, buses…act like this video. They plow through anything, come up two centimeters from your bumper, march on through you- they are big, angry, and they know it. They take no prisoners in the vehicle world, and since semis allowed in the city are smaller ones, they are the King of the Rock, and they know it. Since they own the streets, gangs of buses sometimes drive by to make sure pedestrians don’t cross the streets, nobody U-trurns, and people on their bikes move in single file. They keep order. They don’t have time schedules- maybe officially, but the buses are such a well-kept group of thugs they can afford to have many buses so you aren’t kept waiting long. You pay up front for their “services” of course, which include: Standing room, sudden breaking to test your reflexes, calf workouts (again with the breaking), grip building (on the handles), flexibility (those seats are smaller than the economy class of any plane, and are made of hard, unforgiving plastic), ear training (can you hear the driver?), quick reflex training (get out get out get out get out get out noooo the doors why didn’t you move old lady), and mental map creation building. Like most things, these services are more effective during rush hour.

The drivers of these gang buses? The tinest, cutest young women (early twenties) you could ever find. Sometimes there’s a dude. Not often.

Not often at all.