I'm in China.

Walk A 2012 in My Shoes

Happy 2012, everyone. I hope that you rang in the new year with much more style and dignity than I did. 

Heads up, this is a long story that involves me getting into a lot of self-inflicted (and hilarious) situations and will probably make you question my decision-making competency. Or probably just competency in general, which is fair. 

So here goes.

On the morning of Saturday, December 31st, 2011 my only NYE plan was to spend it with Holly, Daniel, and the two visiting Germs. I really couldn’t care less about New Years…it’s not my holiday and I don’t usually put forth the effort to get dressed up and spend four times as much on food, drinks and transportation just because it’s the last day of the year. But other people do, I like hanging out with other people, so I was doin’ the dang thing and getting dressed up and going out.  

Holly and I came up with a plan to go to a certain area dense in different bars and clubs where we could hop around without needing to rely on a cab. And it was technically close enough to both of our respective apartments, so in the likely event we couldn’t get a cab we could walk home. We figured we could order in dinner to my apartment, have a drink or two, and then head down the road a bit to go out and celebrate 2011 for what it was. 

When we presented this plan to the rest of our crowd, they responded saying they really wanted to go to The Bund to see the fireworks. The Bund is in the complete opposite direction from my apartment than the area we were planning on going to, but I was being a hostess so a hostess I would be. 

The night began just as planned. Pizza and drinks at my place with Holly, Daniel, and 4 Germs. It felt just like college—the boys were in the living room making small talk and trying to find common ground (which turned out to be cars, go figure) while the girls were in the bedroom putting on dresses and curling each other’s hair. I was dressed to the nines in a new dress I had just gotten made, Holly’s black tights and a brand new pair of shoes that I am totally in love with. All topped with a panda hat, of course (my outfit is pertinent to the story, I swear).

We were having such a good time at my apartment, so we decided to hang out there until right before midnight when we would head to The Bund to see the fireworks. At around 11:20pm we head out to search for a cab and were quick to realize that getting one that night was going to be a very difficult task. But I was up for it. Running down the streets with a sloshing cup of something, I flagged one down and jumped in. And then so did 3 other people, because that’s how many people a cab can hold. And then so did Holly. And by ‘jumped’ I mean ‘dove’ in attempt to hide from the cab driver. Because Chinese taxi drivers are real sticklers for safety and all (except not at all). In the hustle and bustle of getting into a cab, I managed to get not one, but three different cold beverages spilled all over me, and Holly’s tights ripped. But oh well, it’ll dry and I’ll buy her a new pair! Let’s go to The Bund. 

The Bund was flooded with people. So much so they had to close down the surrounding streets to account for the lack of acknowledgement of the difference between pedestrian-ok paths and non-pedestrian-ok streets. Because of the blockades, we got out and walked all of about four minutes to The Bund and surfed our way through the sea of people. We were looking around at the surrounding events and I suddenly felt myself sink into the ground. Ugh, I hope I didn’t step in anything. As I lifted my shoe to assess the situation, there it was: a beautiful brand new shoe with its beautiful brand new heel dangling off. Great. I had taken, what? 100 steps in these things and they break? I don’t know why I was the least bit surprised—I got them in China, after all. Well, I wasn’t going to do anything until after the midnight fireworks, and then I would go home and change into flats or something. 

3…2…1…Happy New Year! Looks of anticipation darted across the dark sky. Nothing. No fireworks. No nothin’. But aha! We would bring the fireworks to the night. I grabbed sparklers out of my purse, lit them, and started handing them out to share with the people. We were a big hit. I guess you could say we saved New Years. 

Like water flooding through the pipeline, the crowd was shuffling off The Bund moments later. This required going down sets of stairs, so you can imagine the holdup. Holly and Daniel were searching for a nearby restroom, the Germs were nowhere to be found (I later found out they were taking photos with the locals), and I decided I needed to run home really fast, change into flats and meet everyone back out at whatever bar we were headed to next. When I finally made it off The Bund I came to the realization that there was no way I was going to be able to get a cab. So I was walking home. I mean it’s a New Year’s resolution to work out more and blah blah so I guess I could start right on the first hour. I live a little over a mile and a half away from where we were, so it wouldn’t be a bad walk. Even considering the limp I had from my shoe situation. But since I was doing it alone and didn’t have earbuds on me to listen to music, I made my mom call me via Skype so I would have someone to talk to on my journey home because I didn’t know who else would be up at 8:00am I wanted to hear the sweet sound of Mommy’s voice and catch up.

Just after midnight I began my journey home. After being in China for over two months, I am now well aware that China hates Google, and likes to deter its inhabitants from relying on, or even using it. This principle is ever-so-present in the Google Maps App on the iPhone, and I have had many experiences where the GPS blue dot has displaced me, has shown me going in the opposite direction than I was actually going, and has just cut out all together. Knowing this, I made sure to look at the map the ol’ fashioned way and use street names as my guide. Which would have been a solid plan if it weren’t for my terrible night vision coupled with my hubris. 

As I was walking and talking I heard a group of people behind me comment on how ridiculous the girl in front of them looks with a broken heel and a panda hat, gabbing on her iPhone. So I turn around and agree that I am a complete mess, and suggest they refrain from buying shoes in China. We get to talking, we all have a good laugh at how absurd I look, and after a block or two walk in opposite directions. I find myself taking a shortcut through a dark, super Chinesy alley explaining to my worried mother that I’ve never felt safer than I do in China, and that I’ll be back on a busy street around a lot of other people in a minute. I notice others having a good laugh at the white girl with a panda hat on and a broken heel, and decide to remove the hat and leave my head unadorned and cold. I kept walking and noticed a pair of heels abandoned on the side of the road. They were mocking me. They were also a size negative 6 because people here have baby feet. 

After 45-ish minutes of walking, I looked around and had no idea where I was, and no confidence as to the direction I was going in. Meanwhile I was still on the phone with my mom, and she asks if I recognize anything around me. I give it a 360 and notice that I was in the area I had visited about 7 hours earlier with the Germs. Ugh. I was walking south when I needed to be walking west. But at least I knew where I was now. So I took a left and kept on limping down the street. After a bit of time I ignore that things are looking awfully familiar. That was just me thinking that all of China looks the same. But then I get to an intersection and I think, no, I was totally here about 7 hours ago. Crap. I squint and in the distance see the lights of The Bund again. I had walked in a giant circle for over an hour. I stood on the corner of that intersection, panda hat in one hand, the heel of my shoe in my other, and my head hung low in self-loathing. 

As I stood there trying to think of my strategy moving forward, I felt a presence to my right. I turned around and see a Chinese man with his hand in my purse. I instinctually smack him with my panda hat and scream “NOOOO!” (as if he was a dog that just peed on my rug I guess?). He backed off and gave me a surprised and offended expression. Then he yelled [the real version of] “EFF YOU!” and ran off. You’re right, sir. I’m sorry. Eff me. Totally. How dare me not hand my cash over to you. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME AND PRAY FOR MY SOUL. I made sure that he didn’t get away with neither my cash nor, more importantly, my ripped pair of gloves or chapstick. I then decided it was best to accept defeat, walk the block to The Bund, and wait for the hours it would take to get a cab home. After 10ish minutes running from corner to corner to corner trying to strategize the spot with the highest probability of getting in a cab (you can take the girl outta stats class…), I was back at my original corner and decided that I was staying there. A couple that was also waiting on that corner for a cab couldn’t hold back their laughter and pointed and laughed at me and my situation. I looked over at them and say “yeah, it’s not my night.” They asked “…what happened to you?!” to which I responded, “Well first I got drinks spilled all over me and my new dress and then my brand new heels broke and then I tried to walk home to change into flats and I got lost and walked in a big circle for an hour while everyone laughed at me because I had this stupid panda hat on and then some guy tried to pickpocket me and I swatted him away and now I’m here and I just want to go home.” They were speechless until they could put together the words to say “well, you definitely get precedence over us for a cab.” I thank them and say that we can share a cab, I’m just right up the street but because of the aforementioned series of events I didn’t want to walk home. 

After a few more minutes a van pulls up. As in a personally-owned sketchy white van usually seen crossing borders or in junk yards in the midwest. 

The couple walks up to the driver and co-pilot of the van and speaks to them in Chinese, but I can piece together that they’re negotiating a price for a ride home. The couple begins to get into the van when I ask them “uh, are they taking you home?” They say “yes” and I immediately ask “…can they take me home?” I gave them my cross streets, they say yes, and I hop in the van. And then the couple doesn’t. And then the couple closes the door. Crap. I’m totally getting murdered in the outskirts of Shanghai. At least my mom could be proud of my final decisions made since she was by my side via Skype the entire time. 

I’m trying to talk to my mom about random things to keep myself calm and my mind off of the fact that my probability of ending up in a ditch has skyrocketed in the past five minutes. At least I live a ten minute’s drive (TOPS) away so my logistical nightmare should end soon. And then the van drives over the Pudong Bridge, which is in the complete opposite direction from my apartment. Of course it does. I compare this situation to that of a person trying to get dropped off 6 blocks away in Manhattan and then driving to New Jersey first. It doesn’t make sense and for the love of puppies I just want to go home already. 

So after driving around Pu-Jersey for what felt like a lifetime and what was actually an hour and a half, it was down to the white girl with her drink-stained dress, her broken heel, her panda pelt, her violated purse, her mother on the other side of her phone trying not to let her worry seem obvious, and her cloud of self-pity. And one other couple.

Finally we made our last stop before mine to let the couple out. I look around and don’t notice a single residency. And then I realize the couple is giving up on the sketchy van and grabbing a cab. Hell no was I going to be alone in this van. I had made enough bad decisions for one night, and I wanted to start making some good ones. So I got out of the van too, hailed a cab to make sure I had two vehicles simultaneously ready to take me home, and pay the driver the RMB 40 I promised him. I handed him a 50 and asked for 10 back. He looks at me with a wag of his finger and says “more, more.” I look at him with fury in my eyes and, in English, exclaim “NO. YOU SAID FORTY. I’M NOT EVEN HOME. YOU’RE LUCKY TO GET THAT,” and grab a 10 out of his hands. He then continues to yell and points to the couple, suggesting that I’m to pay for them too. I clarify that I am not with the couple, and turn to point to them as they’re getting into the cab I had just hailed. Oh hell no. I get their attention and put the yelling man onto them, jump into the cab and slam the door. Exhale. I was going home. 

I told the taxi driver my cross streets. “Wha?” he asks. 

Are you kidding me?

I’ve never had a problem (aside from that first day…) telling a cab how to get me home. Of course it would happen now. 

I slowly repeated my cross streets until we came to some sort of understanding. Then I exhaled again. Only a little bit. I still had some getting home to do.

At 3:15am, I walked limped through my threshold and I was home. 

Guess pulling a Kels is the same thing in 2012 as it was in 2011. 

Cheers to success and stability in 2013, anyone?

You can expect a certificate of completion for reading all of this in the mail in 4-6 weeks. 

1. kellymn reblogged this from kmonkinchina and added:

   Dear Kelsey, You...over. Love (and miss you), Kelly

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