Saturday, September 20, 2003
MOVING DAY
Click here to view photos of Ken & Judy's new apartment.
Every Monday morning at 7:30, there's an official flag raising ceremony on the track at the school. Everyone must attend. The students are lined up in brigades, closely monitored by their home room teachers. The teachers stand at the rear, in lines, ordered by the grade they teach. Our lines are much more ragged than the students. Ken stands with the Senior 2 teachers; I stand with those of Senior 1. The national anthem and exhortation, intended to last us all week, take about 20 minutes.
While the earnest Chinese washed over us, we were mentally going over how we would move from the hotel to our apartment, a distance of several city blocks. We had more or less decided to hire a taxi. We were busy figuring out how to tell the driver where we wanted to go, and other basic logistics for the Chinese language deprived. However, the school had made other plans.
As we came back to our offices, we were met by the indomitable Mr. Gao, VP and Mrs. Gao, keeper of the money, beckoning us toward the school van. Soon Keyan and two other teachers arrived, and we realized that they were our movers and the van was our transport. Seven people made very quick work of our luggage, altho it was a tight squeeze once the van was full. Mrs. Gao paid the hotel bill, and Ken paid the internet costs (210 Y for endless hours of use -- divide by 5 for Cdn), we said zaijian to all the young women who had looked after us so well, and we were off, careening around the corners of Huairou'-s major intersection, a sharp right into our gated compound, and a reverse up to the apartment building's main entrance (accessed only by a secret code we punch in to release the door lock).
We expected everyone to leave once all our belongings had been moved in. But no, buckets of water, mops and rags appeared and we were into MAJOR CLEANING!! Ken retreated to the bedroom to wait it out. I tried valiantly to help, but of course, all mops and rags were in use. That left me to fuss, which I do quite well when required. By 10:30, floors and cupboards had reached an acceptable level of cleanliness, and the frenzy subsided. We felt sorry for the two teachers who had been commandeered to help, but were assured that "They like to do it". That from Keyan. We knew they dared not refuse Keyan, a force to reckon with at HRYZ.
Relegated as we were to the bedroom, there was nothing for it but to make the bed. We were both thinking about having a snooze anyway -- the day was hot, hot, hot! and very sultry -- the kind of day when sweat pours down your back and trickles into your boots. The bed is incredibly hard, a mattress only on top of a wooden platform. We like a firm mattress but there are limitations. At least we can sleep together -- we've been in twin beds since we arrived. Chinese bed furnishings include a bottom sheet, unfitted over a padded mattress cover held on the four corners with elastic loops. No top sheet. Instead, a duvet stuffed into a cover which matches the bottom sheet and the pillow cases. We have a very fashionable blue and white set at the moment, which I purchased at the nearby department store, with the help of extensive sign language and an affable clerk.
Although that bed looked very inviting, we went instead to have lunch at Keyan's parents, where we met Hugh Striker, a tutor of English, who lives in HK but hails from Mount Forest. We'-d met him over the summer, when we talked to everyone we could about living and teaching in China. Hugh was on a 10-day holiday and planned to hike in the mountains and also visit friends further north of Huairou. We of course had a jolly time running on in English without having to explain ourselves or slow down and enunciate clearly. We spent the afternoon at school, teaching. It was some hours later before we collapsed in the too hard bed, where the sleeping was amazingly easy. We are on the ground floor (there are no elevators anywhere we've been in Huairou, so the ground floor is a plus -- Keyan lives on the 5th floor at her building), apt 102. It's technically a 3-bedroom apt, but we don'-t have use of one of the bedrooms because the owner, Mr. Hao (how) wanted to use it to store stuff from the apartment. Thus this room is locked and off limits to us. The other bedroom is a den, with a table and 4 chairs. It will be our dining room. Our bedroom is very large, with no closets but built in shelves along one wall. Unfortunately Mr. Hao has left his books on many shelves, so we'll intersperse with our undies, shirts and socks. All this behind sliding glass doors, which creates a rather bizarre blend of the essential and the esoteric. Off our bedroom and off the kitchen are two glassed in alcoves, about the size of a Cdn apartment balcony. The one off the bedroom has rods which run from end to end at about the 6 foot level, used to hang wet washing to dry. We've seen no dryers anywhere here, probably because electricity is a very expensive utility. The alcove in the kitchen contains a 2-element gas cooker which has a hood and ventilator to the outside. This is the serious stir-fry station. Both will be a little chilly in the winter, no doubt.
Our living room is very big, filled with enormous brown leather chairs and matching sofa with obligatory coffee table, as well as a large console for TV, VCR, DVD and CD player, and speakers. We've removed the many trophies and awards for whatever, and the plastic flowers and the doilies and placemats which cover every flat surface, and feel we'll be able to live in this room quite comfortably. Control centre for the computer is also here, close to the telephone.
Our bathroom is big: sink, toilet, shower in the wall, and washing machine. We've put in a shower curtain, which helps keep the water from spraying all over the place. The only drawback is that the shower is right beside the window which is right beside the security panel at the building's front door. Anyone not paying attention to the number pad could watch us have a shower as a diversion. We'll take our chances. If we see people lined up at 6:00 am, we'll suspect that we've become the morning entertainment.
The kitchen is also large by Chinese standards - a very compact space containing fridge, microwave on a stand, hot/cold water dispenser, a bank of cupboards and counter and sink all faced in stainless steel. All labels are in Chinese, so we're experimenting with the appliances. Ken bought a cabbage and a cauliflower yesterday, which we stored in the lower section of the fridge. This morning they were frozen solid. We now know where the freezer is!
We're nestling in here like we did when we were first married and outfitting the apartment with the various small necessities from towels to toilet paper, dustpans to dishes. We've become used to the various idiosyncrasies of the place -- where to put the garbage (see frozen veggies above and left over moon cakes from last epistle), how to turn on the hot water heater (only in the bathroom), how to find the electrical outlets (they are few and high on the walls). We're also meeting our neighbours, especially this morning (Saturday), our first non-work day here.
We had just finished cleaning up after breakfast and taking some pictures for this posting, when a type of old faithful erupted from under the cupboards, gushing soapy water over the entire kitchen tile floor, threatening to inundate the living room. We quickly concluded that this wasn't plate tectonics at work, and began to suspect the washing machine output of the apartment immediately above us. Ken went upstairs to knock them up, his best Chinese at the ready ("Please help me; much water"). The friendly man assured us it wasn't their water and showed Ken that there was no washing machine in their kitchen. All the while, Judy in barefeet, was swabbing the kitchen floor, as wave after wave of water sloshed from under the cupboards (rinse and spin cycles). After much gesticulation and investigation, the neighbour kindly called the super on our phone because he knew there was no way we could communicate with him! Twenty minutes later, the super greeted a specialist who had arrived by bicycle with an electric motor and yards of plumbing snake. The reaming of our pipes was accompanied by yells back and forth between these two men, one in our kitchen and the other somewhere in the bowels of the building. We think the dialogue went like this:
-Hey, Joe! How's it going?
-I need a snake extension. Have you got one.
-Yeah, there's some in the storage cupboard.
-OK, I'll be right there.
-Is it working?
-Yeah but I need more wire. OK...
And then they were finished. The specialist asked for a mop. I understood. He cleaned up the floor, said goodbye and was gone.
Needless to say, this made for an exciting morning. We're becoming integrated into the neighbourhood... which will be the subject of our next posting.
Click here to view photos of Ken & Judy's new apartment.
Every Monday morning at 7:30, there's an official flag raising ceremony on the track at the school. Everyone must attend. The students are lined up in brigades, closely monitored by their home room teachers. The teachers stand at the rear, in lines, ordered by the grade they teach. Our lines are much more ragged than the students. Ken stands with the Senior 2 teachers; I stand with those of Senior 1. The national anthem and exhortation, intended to last us all week, take about 20 minutes.
While the earnest Chinese washed over us, we were mentally going over how we would move from the hotel to our apartment, a distance of several city blocks. We had more or less decided to hire a taxi. We were busy figuring out how to tell the driver where we wanted to go, and other basic logistics for the Chinese language deprived. However, the school had made other plans.
As we came back to our offices, we were met by the indomitable Mr. Gao, VP and Mrs. Gao, keeper of the money, beckoning us toward the school van. Soon Keyan and two other teachers arrived, and we realized that they were our movers and the van was our transport. Seven people made very quick work of our luggage, altho it was a tight squeeze once the van was full. Mrs. Gao paid the hotel bill, and Ken paid the internet costs (210 Y for endless hours of use -- divide by 5 for Cdn), we said zaijian to all the young women who had looked after us so well, and we were off, careening around the corners of Huairou'-s major intersection, a sharp right into our gated compound, and a reverse up to the apartment building's main entrance (accessed only by a secret code we punch in to release the door lock).
We expected everyone to leave once all our belongings had been moved in. But no, buckets of water, mops and rags appeared and we were into MAJOR CLEANING!! Ken retreated to the bedroom to wait it out. I tried valiantly to help, but of course, all mops and rags were in use. That left me to fuss, which I do quite well when required. By 10:30, floors and cupboards had reached an acceptable level of cleanliness, and the frenzy subsided. We felt sorry for the two teachers who had been commandeered to help, but were assured that "They like to do it". That from Keyan. We knew they dared not refuse Keyan, a force to reckon with at HRYZ.
Relegated as we were to the bedroom, there was nothing for it but to make the bed. We were both thinking about having a snooze anyway -- the day was hot, hot, hot! and very sultry -- the kind of day when sweat pours down your back and trickles into your boots. The bed is incredibly hard, a mattress only on top of a wooden platform. We like a firm mattress but there are limitations. At least we can sleep together -- we've been in twin beds since we arrived. Chinese bed furnishings include a bottom sheet, unfitted over a padded mattress cover held on the four corners with elastic loops. No top sheet. Instead, a duvet stuffed into a cover which matches the bottom sheet and the pillow cases. We have a very fashionable blue and white set at the moment, which I purchased at the nearby department store, with the help of extensive sign language and an affable clerk.
Although that bed looked very inviting, we went instead to have lunch at Keyan's parents, where we met Hugh Striker, a tutor of English, who lives in HK but hails from Mount Forest. We'-d met him over the summer, when we talked to everyone we could about living and teaching in China. Hugh was on a 10-day holiday and planned to hike in the mountains and also visit friends further north of Huairou. We of course had a jolly time running on in English without having to explain ourselves or slow down and enunciate clearly. We spent the afternoon at school, teaching. It was some hours later before we collapsed in the too hard bed, where the sleeping was amazingly easy. We are on the ground floor (there are no elevators anywhere we've been in Huairou, so the ground floor is a plus -- Keyan lives on the 5th floor at her building), apt 102. It's technically a 3-bedroom apt, but we don'-t have use of one of the bedrooms because the owner, Mr. Hao (how) wanted to use it to store stuff from the apartment. Thus this room is locked and off limits to us. The other bedroom is a den, with a table and 4 chairs. It will be our dining room. Our bedroom is very large, with no closets but built in shelves along one wall. Unfortunately Mr. Hao has left his books on many shelves, so we'll intersperse with our undies, shirts and socks. All this behind sliding glass doors, which creates a rather bizarre blend of the essential and the esoteric. Off our bedroom and off the kitchen are two glassed in alcoves, about the size of a Cdn apartment balcony. The one off the bedroom has rods which run from end to end at about the 6 foot level, used to hang wet washing to dry. We've seen no dryers anywhere here, probably because electricity is a very expensive utility. The alcove in the kitchen contains a 2-element gas cooker which has a hood and ventilator to the outside. This is the serious stir-fry station. Both will be a little chilly in the winter, no doubt.
Our living room is very big, filled with enormous brown leather chairs and matching sofa with obligatory coffee table, as well as a large console for TV, VCR, DVD and CD player, and speakers. We've removed the many trophies and awards for whatever, and the plastic flowers and the doilies and placemats which cover every flat surface, and feel we'll be able to live in this room quite comfortably. Control centre for the computer is also here, close to the telephone.
Our bathroom is big: sink, toilet, shower in the wall, and washing machine. We've put in a shower curtain, which helps keep the water from spraying all over the place. The only drawback is that the shower is right beside the window which is right beside the security panel at the building's front door. Anyone not paying attention to the number pad could watch us have a shower as a diversion. We'll take our chances. If we see people lined up at 6:00 am, we'll suspect that we've become the morning entertainment.
The kitchen is also large by Chinese standards - a very compact space containing fridge, microwave on a stand, hot/cold water dispenser, a bank of cupboards and counter and sink all faced in stainless steel. All labels are in Chinese, so we're experimenting with the appliances. Ken bought a cabbage and a cauliflower yesterday, which we stored in the lower section of the fridge. This morning they were frozen solid. We now know where the freezer is!
We're nestling in here like we did when we were first married and outfitting the apartment with the various small necessities from towels to toilet paper, dustpans to dishes. We've become used to the various idiosyncrasies of the place -- where to put the garbage (see frozen veggies above and left over moon cakes from last epistle), how to turn on the hot water heater (only in the bathroom), how to find the electrical outlets (they are few and high on the walls). We're also meeting our neighbours, especially this morning (Saturday), our first non-work day here.
We had just finished cleaning up after breakfast and taking some pictures for this posting, when a type of old faithful erupted from under the cupboards, gushing soapy water over the entire kitchen tile floor, threatening to inundate the living room. We quickly concluded that this wasn't plate tectonics at work, and began to suspect the washing machine output of the apartment immediately above us. Ken went upstairs to knock them up, his best Chinese at the ready ("Please help me; much water"). The friendly man assured us it wasn't their water and showed Ken that there was no washing machine in their kitchen. All the while, Judy in barefeet, was swabbing the kitchen floor, as wave after wave of water sloshed from under the cupboards (rinse and spin cycles). After much gesticulation and investigation, the neighbour kindly called the super on our phone because he knew there was no way we could communicate with him! Twenty minutes later, the super greeted a specialist who had arrived by bicycle with an electric motor and yards of plumbing snake. The reaming of our pipes was accompanied by yells back and forth between these two men, one in our kitchen and the other somewhere in the bowels of the building. We think the dialogue went like this:
-Hey, Joe! How's it going?
-I need a snake extension. Have you got one.
-Yeah, there's some in the storage cupboard.
-OK, I'll be right there.
-Is it working?
-Yeah but I need more wire. OK...
And then they were finished. The specialist asked for a mop. I understood. He cleaned up the floor, said goodbye and was gone.
Needless to say, this made for an exciting morning. We're becoming integrated into the neighbourhood... which will be the subject of our next posting.
All text and photography © copyright Harkaway, 2003 - 2004
