Just Another Day

With this being the eve of the holiday dread by many singles, it feels appropriate to address it.  I certainly don’t need a particular date to remind me that I am not in a relationship.  Sitting at home in my sweat pants, piece of Pisano’s Pizza in hand and reruns of Seinfeld are reminder enough the other 364 days out of the year.  Don’t misunderstand my awareness of being single with bitterness however.  At this point in my life I would much rather be single than settle for the wrong person.  Unfortunately, it get’s tiring playing the game though.  The game of numbers.  Not everyone you meet will sweep you off your feet and not everyone will be a complete mess.  You don’t know unless you take a chance and decide you are willing to give people a chance.  It does get exhausting playing that game though.  Most of us value our time a great deal, and it’s more than annoying when you decide to give your time to someone to meet for dinner or coffee and it turns out to be a total waste of time.  We would rather be at home relaxing than out on a bad date so it becomes harder and harder to put yourself out there.  It can be difficult at times to keep the faith that you will meet someone of substance.  As much as many of us want to believe it will happen, we also have this voice in our head that whispers, “are you sure?”  So when the world makes it’s rotation around the sun again and we find ourselves staring at February 14th on the calendar, many of us feel more exhausted then we are willing to admit.  Just another day single, only this one day it is put into a spot light.  So I say to my single friends:  suck it up, continue to swipe left and right, order another cup of coffee, allow yourself time and just keep putting yourself out there.   

Patterns and Hope

How easily we fall back into patterns of our past.  What we say, think and do in our actions do not always match, and it’s amazing how easily we let these three aspects of our lives exist in disharmony.  We question things in retrospect, but when tested with real life we trip and fall at the challenge.  Why is that?  Is it because we have these habits so engrained in us or is it something much deeper than that all together?  What if it’s not out of habit; what if it’s because we are attached to the idea of hope?  We see one more situation to test our previously held beliefs and we subconsciously throw caution to the wind and hope that “this time it will be different.”  How many times have we said that to ourselves?  It could be about a job, a relationship with a family member or how we approach love.  Without hope however, we would succumb to the overwhelming feelings  of having what we truly want to be just out of reach.  Hope is what sustains us.  It sounds as if I am arguing both sides of the fence, and in fact, I am.  Damed if you do, damed if you don’t mentality.  I find myself bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball on the table tennis of life.

Perhaps when we have removed our self from a situation we are able to more accurately dissect the situation with less emotion and be more analytical of our decisions.  It’s difficult to have that same perspective while we are in the heat of life, living it moment by moment.  This is when we need to make those decisions though; the decisions that will lead us in one direction or another.  We either pad down the worn path of repeated mistakes or we carve out a new one.  That new uncarved path is scary and unknown.  What if we choose that path and we find pain?  What if we find that we lose the person that we long to have in our life?  Unfortunately, both the beaten path and the new one are unknowns.  We know how we feel and react to life, but we cannot predict how an outside force, such as another person, will feel or react.  How do we forecast the actions of a lover?  We have only known them for a snapshot of time.  What makes them up, and all of us up, are the millions of experiences we have that lead to one moment. Each moment is different than the last because what makes us up changes with each tick of the clock.  I cannot begrudge someone for the way that they feel or react because they are being true to themselves.  I can however, decide if I will remain or if I will go.  This is where many of us fall into our patterns from the past.  We hope.  We hope it will change, be different, improve or heal with time.  Once again the question of hope rears it’s  tempting head.  Maybe it’s not that we need to hope for something different in those moments, but to hope that we have the strength to see them when they happen instead of looking back at them from a regretful distance.

Thank you Asia

As my first year teaching overseas comes to a close I can't help but be struck by how quickly the time has gone.  Before making the great jump over the seas to China I recall my family and friends saying, "but you'll be gone for so long, won't you be homesick?  What if you don't like it?  It's such a long time.  There's so many people.  You don't even like being in a crowded store."  I chuckle at the thought of that now in retrospect.  

Never in a million years had I ever envisioned myself traveling to Asia, much less living here.  It was a place I knew little of and had no draw to.  I figured that at least I could get my foot in the door for teaching internationally and then move to wherever my heart desired:  Switzerland, Italy, Russia.  Now I find myself completely in love with a place that I knew so little about.  The culture.  The history.  The people.  The food.  The habits of locals that seem weird and rude to me, but normal and non-issues to them.

In such a short amount of time I've been able to experience so much more then the small bubble I was previously living in.  During my first year in Asia I have made my way through the pitch dark Cu Chi Tunnels in Vietnam that the soldiers used for warfare.  I stood among the vast pictures capturing the horrors of war and was exposed to another vantage point of  history.  While in Siem Reap, Cambodia I toured many ancient temples and hiked to the top of a mountain to watch the sun set over the beautiful landscape all while listening to the jumble of different languages being spoken all around me.  In Phnom Penh I had the sobering experience of witnessing the Killing Fields and the S21 Detention Camp Prison.  Kuala Terengganu, Malaysia was a quiet and beautiful place to relax and watch the ocean surf while listening to the haunting voices sing the call to prayer.  My heart lead the way to Hainan off the southern tip of China.  There, I held a starfish in my hands plucked right from the ocean and ate seaweed on the beach while listening to the waves crash.

Not only has the last year filled up my passport book, but it has also given me some of the most amazing friendships imaginable.  Meeting people from around the globe that have sick senses of humor just like I do, gives me hope that every continent and country will harbor such crazy people and no matter where I live, I will be at home.  Moving somewhere alone to a place so foreign could have been a scary and lonely path.  I was fortunate enough to meet and bond with some amazing people to make it an easier transition.

The time has come now to bring this first chapter to a close.  The school year is done.  Now is the time to relax and revel in it all.  In a years time I wasn't homesick.  I missed people of course, but in the grand scheme of things, there was not one single moment when I regretted my decision to move my life to Shanghai.  This has been the most amazing adventure of places, people, and of myself.  I only look forward to what else lies on the horizon.  Thank you Asia for one beautiful year.

Ruin is the Path to Transformation

December 22, the day before my birthday, has been extraordinarily difficult to bear the past few years.  Those who know me well do not need an explanation why and I will spare you the details other then to say I lost someone very dear to me that day.  I can't escape the day and let it slip by unnoticed due to the fact that it sits so quietly next to my birthday, an unfortunate reminder for the rest of my life.  It's been three years now since that day.  

This year the date fell over my trip to Cambodia and I wouldn't have my familiar and rock solid support from my best friend.  I would be facing the memories head-on with travel companions that were unaware of the approaching date that would be showing its dark underbelly.  Before leaving on the trip, I contemplated telling them about the significance of the day so I could prepare them in case I had a repeat of the previous years collapse that left me in a puddle of tears on the floor with my best friend there to pick up the pieces.  After 4 or 5 days into our trip and there was some traveling tension, like many people experience when traveling together, I decided to keep quiet and not mention the approaching date that was weighing so heavily on my mind.  I am well aware that it is my own thinking that contributes to the emotions and reactions I have connected to this tragedy.  I could stay in my hostel room alone and dissolve into myself replaying the events of that day or I could go out and face it head on in a new light.  I chose the ladder. 

I grabbed my tuk tuk driver and we headed out for the temples to see the beautiful sunset that I was told not to miss.  The sky was clear.  The air hot.  And the breeze from the ride comforting as a warm hug.  After 20 minutes of riding out to the temples, we had reached our destination.  The driver pointed at the base of a mountain to a path and said to follow it to the top for the sunset.  He would wait for me at the bottom.  

As I approached the trail I saw there were four older men sitting playing traditional Cambodian music to set the mood for the trip ahead.  I took a deep breath and headed up the path thinking of it as a spiritual journey of sorts, to hopefully bring myself some peace.  The trail was solid green tropical trees and I couldn't help but notice the delicate spiderwebs strung between the leaves.  I noticed the warm earthy smell and the soft whisper of the breeze moving through the lush green forest around me.  I climbed and climbed until I reached the summit.  To my surprise there was a tall temple sitting atop this forest that looked out over the surrounding wildlife.  

I wiped the sweat from my brow and set out to conqueror the endless stairs to the top of the temple.  After I reached the top I took in the magnificent view while I caught my breath.  In the distance you could see Angkor Wat standing proudly over the land.  There were only a few people there when I reached the top, but I knew more would be coming to witness the famed sunset, so I staked out a perfect spot to sit and view the sunset.  

While sitting on my staked out claim my thoughts rested on the significance of the date and the events that unfolded after that sad day.  Life is filled with "what-ifs."  I thought about "what if" she was still alive.  What would she look like?  What would her personality be like?  What would her laugh sound like?  Would I have stayed and would I still be married?  A line of "what-ifs" strung through my mind in an endless stream.  I looked out into the pinking sky and realized that without that terrible event the only thing I could be sure of is that I would not have been sitting on top of an ancient temple in Cambodia watching the sunset.  

The day before in one of the temples I knelt on  the floor with a monk as he blessed me and tied a red bracelet to my wrist.  While watching the sunset I looked down and noticed the monks bracelet.  Without another thought, I took it off and sent my thoughts to her as if she could hear me through it.  It wasn't our time to meet yet and she wasn't needed on this spiritual plane.  I would meet her someday, but not yet.  My path and my story was not meant to end in a white picket fence scenario in my home town.  She knew there were other things that I needed to do and she wanted me to have the life that I had carved out and now found myself truly happy in.  

As the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky I felt like I could feel her looking down and telling me that it was OK.  This wasn't goodbye, but only see you later.  The sky was splashed with pinks and oranges as the sun blinked out of sight and I blinked the sting of tears away.  

With the bracelet strung between my fingers I waited for the crowd to dissipate.  I walked forward to the edge of the temple wall that faced the sunset and found a peaked stone to rest the bracelet on as a memorial to her memory.  

I made it through the day 

without losing myself to the pain.  

Until we meet, I send you light and love Vivianne.

Holiday Season Away from Home

With this being the holiday season, one cannot help but think of family, home, and all that goes with it.  This year marks a first for me.  I will be celebrating the holidays on the other side of the world without the holiday markings of Christmas trees, snow, crowded homes, and family.  The feeling of being gone is mixed.  On one hand it is hard to not see family and nieces and nephews growing up, but on the other hand I find myself quite happy in the life change that has brought me to such a strange and far away place.

This last week was the first holiday of the season; Thanksgiving.  In the spirit of sharing our American holiday with the other nationalities represented in our school, one of our art teachers was kind enough to paint a beautiful tree across a large window in a common area that the staff and students pass through; a large black trunk and branches covered with leaves of every color.  There was a basket left in front of the tree with slips of paper that read, “I am thankful for…”  As the week went on students and staff alike would write what they were thankful for and then tape it up on the branches of the tree, thus making it our Thankful Tree.  You couldn’t pass by the beautiful window without smiling and feeling happy.  If you were to stop and read the wall you would find everything from children saying they were thankful for mom and dad, school, fruits and vegetables, teachers, and the Thankful Tree.  Staff wrote things that varied from family at home, their Shanghai family, cream cheese, stretchy pants, and good friends.  I found myself reading through them the afternoon after we had our Thanksgiving potluck at school and found myself a bit misty eyed.  Not because I was homesick from reading everyone’s notes about family, but because I felt such happiness.  We all get caught up in the whirlwind of every day life and forget to take stalk in what really matters.  We all had so many things to be thankful for.  

While sitting around enjoying saki on the roof of a building several weeks ago I was asked what I missed the most about home and what I loved the most about being in Shanghai.  For me, of course I miss my friends and family, but what I miss most is an easy one; my students.  I spent more time with them in the last two years then with anyone else in my life.  The bond that was built there and the investment one puts into the life of a child is boundless.   The thing I love the most since moving here just three short months ago was also an easy one to think of.  Coming here, not necessarily China, but abroad non-the-less, was a dream that had been shelved over a decade ago.  I have finally been able to follow the wind and join the society of people who call not just one spot on a map home, but where ever I happen to land.  No matter where I end up I know I will have friends and family.  They are timeless and follow you everywhere. 

It took a bit of time to settle into my home and culture here in China.  Now that life here has a rhythm I can say without any hesitation that I couldn’t be happier. Just the other night while walking home with a friend, she turned to me and said that she admired how happy I was and could see the change in me.  I find myself very content with life right now and feel very lucky to have been strong enough to make a life change and follow my dreams.  When I’m old and gray I don’t want to be regretful of the things I never did and the things I was too scared to pursue. 

So, as December approaches bringing with it my birthday, Christmas and New Years, I know that I will not be spending it with friends and family from back home, nor will I be spending it alone, but with my new Shanghai family. I will miss those from home, but I will be happy and thankful to be sharing this time with some amazingly wonderful people here.  

Long Hua Temple in Shanghai

The Long Hua Temple in Shanghai has been an absolute highlight for me thus far.  During October holiday many people travel throughout China and the vast majority leave Shanghai for relaxation and beaches elsewhere.  This leaves the city quite quiet and easier to travel within.  Cabs are abundant and the metro is less crowded.  Among my adventures within the city that week, I decided to make my journey to the Long Hua Temple.  Travel books will tell the average traveler to visit the Jing'an temple, but  I wanted to see something more authentic and a more accurate reflection of Buddhism.  Don't get me wrong, The Jing'an Temple is worth a stop, but if you can only visit one, there is no contest.  The Jian Temple is more like the Las Vegas of temples.  Lots of shiny gold and bling everywhere.  You are not overcome with a sense of spirituality or aww.  

                         

The Long Hua Temple was originally built in 242 AD and is the oldest temple in Shanghai.  The fact that it still takes up 20,000 square feet of space is astounding seeing as the city is a bit cramped and in need of space.   Through out its' history the temple has faced destruction during times of revolution and has persevered through it all.  Since the Ming Dynasty there has been a Long Hua Temple fair the third day of the third lunar month.  It is believed that great dragons come to the temple to grant wishes.  This coincides with the blooming of the peach trees in the gardens here. In addition, people will throw coins up into the structures on the grounds.  This is a similar practice to throwing coins in a wishing well.

When visiting the temple you will have to pay a whole 10RMB as an entrance fee.  This is less then $2US dollars, so it won't break the bank going here.  When you enter there are bundles of incense to take with you if you are there for worship.  You make your way through the temples to the back of the property and there will be a fire to light your incense.  It's believed that incense will help carry the peoples prayers and wishes as will it also purify the grounds.  The ritual of this was really very amazing to witness.  The smell of the incense was so strong and thick that your nose burned, but I enjoyed every second of it thoroughly.  

There are many different temples within the grounds itself.  All with different purposes and deities.  One of the rooms was filled with the 500 Lohan.  The 500 Lohan are known for their courage, wisdom and supernatural powers.  They are believed to be guardian angles for temples and keep evil away.

My favorite part of the temple was the jade Buddha.  The jade Buddha was brought from Burma in 1986 and is carved from one single piece of white Burmese Jade.  It stands at a height of 1.7 meters high and is absolutely amazing to be in the presence of.  

In addition to the amazing temples within the walls there is also the poetry garden.  You walk through a circular door and it's as if you have entered Narnia.  Your jaw drops as you see emerald green around you.  Beautiful bamboo grows around a deep pool of green in the center of the garden.  A small path circles the pond and cemented deities line the path.  When you reach the far side of the path you will find the Boundry Stone Temple.  

So while everyone else was off on their beach vacations and relaxing with a drink in their hand, I was happy I had the time to explore the city and discover this amazing treasure here in Shanghai.  Before leaving the temple I purchased a beautiful jade necklace of a hand holding the Dragons Pearl which is a symbol of truth, life, and wisdom.  The impression that this temple has left on me is lasting and I will surely be entering through its' doors again.  

Worse Case Scenario

When someone says the phrase “worse case scenario” it always seems like it’s not the worse case scenario and it’s just an exaggeration.  Let me preface this story by saying that my time in Shanghai has been a series of worse case scenarios or at the very least a string of insatiable bad luck.  Before coming to China, I always had an inclination that I had bad luck, but after moving to the other side of the world some how bad luck not only followed me, it increased its power over the radius that surrounded me.  Some may argue that it’s not bad luck here in Shanghai.  That it’s just the way the city swallows you whole and messes with every expectation that you ever had.

For whatever number of reasons; new country, new germs, not enough rest, too many late nights, and not enough hand sanitizer in the world, I ended up sick within the first month of moving to Shanghai which had caused voice to sound similar to that of a sex phone operator.  That being said, I thought I would be the responsible adult and head home early from the party my coworkers had thrown.  Drinks flowed freely and homemade hummus was in abundance, but this tired sick girl was going to leave at a reasonable hour so she could catch the metro home. 

It had just started to sprinkle, but I headed out in the rain and started to make my way through the apartment grounds.  Now that it was dark, all of the streets and buildings on the apartment grounds looked the same.  Wandering around for a while I finally found my way out the gates to the main road. 

I knew I had a 10 minute walk in the rain to get to the metro stop so I hunkered down and walked north down Hong Qiao Road toward the zoo.  I met other people on the street all heading somewhere more interesting then the line 10 metro stop I’m sure.

Stepping on to the escalator and riding down out of the rain was a relief.  I only had enough money on my metro card for 2 or 3 more rides which I why I walked to the metro in the first place instead of cabbing it home from the party across town. I swiped my card, walked through the turnstile, and headed down the stairs to wait for the train.  Since it was late there was a place to sit and wait so I plopped down in my soggy clothes and looked at the TV screen hanging from the ceiling.  I had 10 minutes to wait until the next train.  I took out my iPod to play a few games of solitaire while I waited. 

Lights veered down the track and I heard the familiar sound of the metro approaching.  I stood up and walked toward the platform.  As the metro came closer it did not slow down its speed.  It merely flew by in a wink.  I stood there completely dumbfounded.  “What the hell?” would have been heard leaving my lips had there been anyone else there to witness the train fly by. 

I looked up at the TV screen and it now had an updated time of a 15 min wait until the next train.  I sat back down grumbling to myself and took my iPod back out to resume my solitaire game that I would undoubtedly lose again. 

My eyes darted back and forth between my hopeless solitaire game and the TV screen counting down the minutes until the next train.  When the time was almost up, I walked over to the platform again to wait.  The lights came closer and closer and then… flew by without stopping again.  “Seriously?!”  This time my irritation was heard by someone.  Down at the opposite end of the platform was a metro worker in his little pink button down shirt and holding his green flag on a stick.  He looked at me with what can only be described as an “oh, shit” look on his face. 

He walked the distance of the platform toward me, “last metro.  You get taxi,” he said pointing up the stairs toward the street. 

“What?  Why didn’t the last two trains stop?” I said with irritation. 

He looked like a cornered animal with no answer for me, “Don’t know.  You take taxi.” 

“I don’t have money for a taxi.  That’s why I was taking the metro.”  Now I was really starting to panic.  How was I going to get home?  I knew there wasn’t enough money on my metro card to take a taxi with it and I had forgotten my phone at home to call anyone for a ride.  I also knew I couldn’t walk back to the party because I had gotten lost just trying to find my way out and would not find the right building again. 

The little man in the pink shirt called on his walkie talkie to someone else. I listened to him talk to her in Chinese for several minutes and then turn to me, “You go see ticket office.  They help you,” he said pointing upstairs again.

I sighed and walked upstairs.  The lady at the ticket office had a great solution, “Metro done.  You take taxi?”

Good Lord.  Really?  I went on to explain to her that would require money to pay the taxi driver. 

“Use metro card!” she exclaimed excitedly like she had just came up with a cure for polio.  I handed her my card to see for herself that there was not enough money on it.  Sure enough.  3RMB left.  That wouldn’t be enough for him to even start the meter.  The ticket lady looked distraught. 

“I don’t have enough money,” I explained.  I reached in my purse and pulled out two coins, “This is it.”  I was holding two RMB and I knew that it wasn’t much.

“Oh!  You take bus!” she said with relief.  Let me tell you now, I have heard nothing but negative stories about the buses in Shanghai.  Terribly confusing and no way to read the maps because they are all in Chinese. 

“No!  I will get lost.  I’ve never taken the bus.  I’m going to get lost.”

She was unconvinced and grabbed a piece of paper.  She wrote down the bus number that I need to take that would drop me off at the Hongqiao subway station and that it would be the fifth stop to get off.  She refunded my metro ticket that had already been deducted from my card so now I had a whole 3 RMB to my name. 

I walked away from the counter reluctantly with the scrap of paper held tightly in my fist and a foreboding feeling in my gut.  As I rode the escalator back up into the rain I tried to choke back my frustration and fear, but several tears escaped and joined the raindrops on my face.

My feet hit the wet pavement without the notion of what was about to perspire.  I blinked the rain out of my eyes and walked over to the bus stop the lady from the counter had indicated.  I only needed to wait for several minutes before the correct bus number stopped in front of me with a screech of its’ breaks.  I stepped on, dropped my 2 RMB into the pay funnel, and took a seat near the front. 

The first thing I noticed was the cleanliness of the bus.  It appeared to be relatively clean both to the eye and the nose.  Several rows of seats faced forward, while the front had a single row on each side facing inward.  This is where I sat looking up at the scrolling screen of street names.  First in Chinese characters and then in English.  None of the names scrolling through looked familiar, but I assumed they were small cross streets I had not seen yet. 

The bus reared into the darkness in a direction that was not heading toward my dry apartment.  Trying to give the benefit of the doubt, I figured that the bus would make a loop.  That would only make sense since the lady at the counter was so sure this was the bus for me. 

I counted the stop and held out a finger on my left hand as to not lose track and get confused.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Finally the fifth stop came.  I saw a large sign over the road that said Hongqiao, but it didn’t look familiar.  Again, I hoped she was right and that I would only have to find the right cross street to get myself home.  I stepped off the bus into the rain. 

I looked down both sides of the street waiting for some piece of familiarity of a building or corner.  Nothing.  I decided to walk down to the next cross street and see what that was to help me acclimate myself. 

On a side note, when walking any great distances in a large city such as Shanghai, the footwear of choice is tennis shoes.  Not flip flops.  And as long as we are sidetracked, one other thing you must know about Shanghai is that a “city block” is not a constant and predictable distance from one corner to another.  One never knows how long you will have to walk to reach the next cross street.

I finally reach the next corner and look up at the street signs.  Written both in Chinese and English is no help at this point because neither street name is familiar at all.  Now I must come up with a next course of action.  I rummage through my purse and find my last two RMB.  I would keep walking down the same street to the next bus stop and get on again.  The lady from the counter must just have been wrong in how many stops it was.  I would just watch the scrolling red street names again and wait for Hongqiao Lu. 

At this point there is another pressing problem that I am having difficulty ignoring.  I have to pee.  It’s raining, and I’m already wet so I seriously consider just going in my pants.  No one would be the wiser.  I’m just a wet white girl in the rain.  I push this option aside and continue walking down the street all the while looking for a place that might have a bathroom I could use.  I even eye up some tall bushes.  Hell, if the Chinese can pee in their streets why can’t I pee next to them?

After about ten minutes of walking I see the golden arches.  McDonalds meant, a bathroom I could use.  I walked in to the restaurant and headed straight to the back to find just more seats.  I looked toward the front corner.  More seats.  Since when did they stop putting bathrooms in McDonalds.  I thought my bladder would burst right there on their greasy floors.  Defeated, I walked back out into the rain.

I could see the bus stop ahead so I convinced my self that it would only be a few stops until I would be home.  The bus pulled up and several people got on before me.  I followed them up the stairs and dropped my last two RMB into the funnel of doom.  People are creatures of habit and so I sat in the same seat again.

The street names scrolled through in red lettering in the front of the bus.  We stopped and people got off.  I noticed that no one else was getting on.  The was slowly emptying.  I pushed down the next worry in my head and proceeded to look out the window determined to find some familiarity.  It didn’t come.

The streets began to get darker due to less streetlights.  If I had ever driven through a ghetto this is what I would have imagined in my head.  At least it would look like this in the dark and the rain.

We stopped again and now I saw the bus was empty except for the driver and me.  Leaning toward him, I asked, “Hongqiao Lu?”  He looked up and nodded his head yes.  I would have felt more relieved had I believed he understood what I was asking him. 

The bus driver continued driving for another half a block before turning right.  My stomach dropped as I realized what was happening.  He had just pulled into the bus terminal.  The buses were done running for the night.  My mind raced as he backed up the bus next to another, parked it perfectly, and turned the key off.  The rain had now turned into a full-blown thunderstorm. Thunder crashed.  Lightening lit up the dark lot momentarily.  Rain beat down on the roof of the bus as if to taunt me saying, “Now what?” 

My frantic thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Chinese.  I realize the driver is talking to me.  He’s gesturing toward the door.  I have no Mandarin words to help with the situation that I know found myself in.  I speak to him in English hoping my face and hands will express my misfortune.  He thinks that I don’t want to go out in the storm and hands me his broken umbrella with a smile gesturing toward the door again. 

“I don’t know where I am,” I say desperately.

“Oh!” and he holds out his phone for me to call someone for a ride.  I don’t know even know my own number yet, much less any one else’s.  I shake my hands in front of me telling him no.

“Ah!  Taxi!”  He realizes now what I’m telling him.

Close to tears now, “I don’t have any money for a taxi.”

What happens next is the most unpredictable thing to happen in Shanghai.  The blue-collar man in Shanghai makes enough money to put food on the table and not much else.  It is not a glamorous well-paid job to drive bus, but he opens his wallet and hands me 100 RMB, “Money!”  He says smiling.

I want to hug the man but I know this will make him uncomfortable.  I thank him over and over in Mandarin, “Xie xie ni!  Xie xie ni!”

My gratitude for this mans kindness could not be expressed in words, but he probably had just given me an entire days’ pay.  This generosity of humanity catches me completely off guard.  I was already resolved to walking the streets until daylight to find a running metro again. 

I stepped off the bus into the thunderstorm holding up the broken umbrella with both hands and my 100RMB safely tucked in my pocket.  The walk through the parking lot was ankle deep water as the rain came down sideways.  After I was out of eyeshot of the bus I closed the umbrella because it was not helping matters.

As I reached the street I could see that there were several dimly lit street lamps in addition to 4 people crowded around a street vender talking under an awning.  The smoke from the mystery meat he was grilling disappeared into the storm but the smell still lingered. 

I decided to not walk any more and just wait for a cab to drive by.  Ten minutes pass when a cab finally drives by with its’ light on.  It stops and I hop in relieved that my journey is coming to an end.

“Hongqiao Lu FanYu Lu,” I say to the driver.  This is the way to get from point a to point b.  You tell the driver the cross streets that you want to be dropped at.  He looks at me blankly and I say it again, “Hongqiao Lu FanYu Lu.”

“Oh! Bu shi! Bu shi!” he said irritated with me.  He was telling me no.  I swallowed hard and got out of the cab and watched it drive off.

Fifteen minutes later another cab stopped.  I got in with a different plan in mind.  Instead of just saying where I needed to go I also showed him that I had 100RMB I was willing to pay him.  He did not understand what I meant by the 100 RMB I held out, but he turned on the meter and we drove away from the street that smelled like charcoaled meat.

I said a silent prayer in my head as we drove.  Please let this be enough money to get me home.  He can keep it all as long as it gets me home.

We drove for ages before I saw something I recognized.  It was the Hongqiao airport.  The lady at the counter in the metro had put me on the wrong bus in the completely wrong direction. 

He turned onto the interstate.  I concentrated on two things: not peeing my pants, and watching the meter go up crawling to quickly to 100. 

When we turned on my street and pulled up in front of my building the meter read 82 RMB.  The average ride in Shanghai is around 20, so seeing 82 is shockingly greater then one is used to. 

I handed him the 100RMB and told him, “Xie xie ni,” and gestured for him to keep the change.  He was smiling and grateful.  As Haley Joel Osment would say, “Pay it forward.”

The rain had subsided when I stepped onto the curb in front of my building.  I dug my keys out happy to finally be home headed up the stairs.

So, when I hear “worse case scenario” being thrown around haphazardly I can say, "Really?  Have you ever been lost in the biggest city in the world with no phone or money?"  Was it bad luck or was it just the ying yang of life in Shanghai?  Either way, I resolved to do two things everyday for the rest of my stay in Shanghai.  I will always have my phone and 100RMB.  Everything else is just circumstances of the city swallowing you whole and if you’ve got your phone and money, you can at least climb out unscathed.