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ON THE WAY TO WUQIAO I accidentally fell asleep on my second train for Wuqiao. When I open my eyes, I realize that I’m 30 minutes past my stop. I was just so sleep deprived from sharing a room with seven others – four of whom snored their brains out. I scrambled to get my things together and make a run for whatever stop I was at. But the conductor told me to stay on the train, and that they’d put me on the next one back. I was looked after pretty well, although it seemed like a hassle at first. I’m still wearing the same clothes that I wore yesterday, and my mascara is halfway down my face. To the best of my ability, I told one of the attendants in Chinese that I had missed my stop. She understood, thank God, and I continued on the train with the rest of the passengers, excitedly awaiting my destination. Wuqiao isn't the cleanest place, nor does it have the most flashy tourist attractions – and of course, finding the sun is difficult due to the strong layer of pollution. The shower water would turn dusty gray and I feel like I might lose 10 years off my life living here. But there is something so special about this place, Life here is rich with experiences and everyday feels like an adventure. |
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I was absolutely stoked to be living in my own place. I’d never lived alone before. I moved out when I was 23 and lived with my ex-boyfriend, but even then we had to share the place with another couple because it was too expensive for just the two of us to live alone. I finally felt like a real grown-up! And the first thing I wanted to do was put on some tunes and cook dinner in my underwear – My Bubble Bum, of course.
I’m anxious to see the house, since my friend found it for me through another friend. And it does only cost 40 squid – 40 bloody euro for a two-bedroom hutong house! But I guess cheap rent does come at a price, just like losing ten years of my life due to pollution. (I should really stop saying that, though; I believe in the law of attraction and should be careful about what gets absorbed by my subconscious mind.) |
ARRIVED
So, I made it to the house. And my worst fears have been confirmed: it’s a shithole. There is no electricity, no heating, and no mattress. It definitely has a lot of potential – it’s a super cute traditional Chinese bungalow with a yard. 40 euro a month…who was I kidding?
I asked her where the toilet was, and she pointed me towards a bucket in the yard. She instructs me to dump it out every morning. I asked, what about number two? Where do I put that? I don’t think even she knew the answer to that.
So, I made it to the house. And my worst fears have been confirmed: it’s a shithole. There is no electricity, no heating, and no mattress. It definitely has a lot of potential – it’s a super cute traditional Chinese bungalow with a yard. 40 euro a month…who was I kidding?
I asked her where the toilet was, and she pointed me towards a bucket in the yard. She instructs me to dump it out every morning. I asked, what about number two? Where do I put that? I don’t think even she knew the answer to that.
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Don’t get me wrong, I’ve peed in buckets before while I was working for a circus in China. There was a communal toilet, but it was walking distance away!
Anyway, I’m standing in this horrible apartment at 7 p.m. in the pitch black, negative 10 degrees, without a shower for three days, sleep deprived, and desperately needing a toilet. I’d consider myself mentally strong, but at this point, I was having a meltdown. “Fuck this,” I told her. She doesn’t understand English, so it’s okay. I knew this year that I was going to do whatever it takes to get this business off the ground. I knew I would likely be sad at times, feel a little homesick, fed up, and hopeless. But I went through these emotions already least year and I came out on the other side. See, I just pretend to myself that everything is going to be okay, because it is. It always is. That’s how the law of attraction works. Your thoughts fuel your emotions. And if you lie to yourself, you feel pretty fucking good. |
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And anyway, what’s better: to be a delusional optimist or a depressed realist? I’m a dreamer, man, it’s way more fun!
At least this year, I’m more mentally prepared. My Chinese has improved, and people don’t get fed up so easily when I’m telling a story in that would take one minute in English but takes me five in Chinese! The Chinese people are patient, even though they may push me flying through the doors of a train as they rush to get a seat. They do have some patience I suppose. My friend decided to get a hotel instead. She did offer that I stay at her house, but I politely declined – she only has one four-year-old’s bed and no heating. Last year I stayed with her when I had no accommodation, I slept in two pairs of pants, three jumpers, a scarf, a hat, a jacket, gloves, and tons of blankets. When her little girl came in looking for me the next morning, she thought I had vanished. That night was Chinese New Year’s, meaning that many hotels wouldn’t allow foreigners to make reservations. This has happened to me before. Last year I stayed illegally at a family hotel. My friend takes me there. |
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The family are a travelling circus, and every spring festival when they leave, their grandfather takes care of the hotel. They have an actual tiger in the back of the hotel. I woke up to it roaring one morning and thought…what on God’s earth is that? What type of pet do they have?
Anyway, when we arrive at the hotel, the grandfather answers the door and recognizes me immediately. “Jiexika!” He shouts – my name in Chinese. “My old friend!” He takes my freezing hands and rubs them with his wrinkly but soft hands. “You are so cold,” he says, and pours me hot water to drink. I’ve never been so happy to be warm. I remember last year noting that the hotel was pretty rundown, but compared to the house I almost had to sleep in, it looked like a luxury. The grandfather is upset with me for not wearing enough clothing, so I tell him to wait downstairs for me to shower and get warmer clothes, and then I will join him and his friend for a beer. |
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When I arrive, he has already prepared snacks for us – raw chopped horseradish with soybean sauce, salted peanuts, and a bottle of beer. He takes out his decades-old phone (which he still doesn’t really know how to use) and shows me a photo of us together from last year, when I first started My Bubble Bum.
On his old phone, the picture looks ancient but I love it, so I ask him to send it to me but He doesn’t know how. In the photo I am much paler, and my hair is long and dark. I already regret chopping it all off, but I am trying to be more efficient and practical this year. Plus, my house doesn’t even have a shower. Or a toilet? |
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FIRST NIGHT
Tonight is my first night in my new house. I collect my things from the hotel. I carefully pack my beautiful soft duvet that I had made at the local shopping center. I had them make it extra thick. The house is still a work-in-progress. The walls are falling apart, but I’m proud of my room. I have my own place, and it is kind of cute. After the Chinese New Year, I’m going to have my room painted, outfitted with a brand new floor, and decorated with curtains and lights. It will be perfect. It already is perfect. Perfect for a shithole. Still, I’m excited to create something of my own that I can call a home. I have so many ideas for this little place. I’m thinking about turning the master bedroom into a training space. Maybe I can rent it out to people who don’t want to go away for one or two months to train. A lot of work needs to be done, and my business mind goes crazy sometimes. I need to calm the fuck down on ideas and focus solely on what I am here for. But I am a hustler. I can’t stop. I walked home around 10 p.m. that weekend. It was negative eight degrees. No shops were open, no cars were on the street, and everybody seems to have fallen asleep early. I was nervous about my first night alone in this cold, spooky house. |
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When I pass a homemade alcohol shop, I ask if she has any wine. She shows me a dusty old bottle that she made probably a century ago, but I take it anyway to ease off my nerves. It was only 16 rmb – an absolute bargain.
I find my house using the torch on my phone. It’s completely freezing, but luckily I left my electric blanket plugged in. Yeah, yeah, I know. My mother would bloody kill me. Definitely not the best idea. But selfishly, I’d prefer the house burn down than freeze my skinny ass off. Under the duvet cover, I take a few sips of my wine. After a few minutes I’m already feeling tipsy. Clearly the alcohol content is high. I drank half the bottle, listening to the freaky metal gates clanging back and forth. I call my mum, and her soothing voice relaxes me. She comforts me and suggests putting a brick to hold the gate. I didn’t, of course. No way I was leaving that warmth. I’d rather get killed warm in my bed than standing at the front door freezing. That night, I slept for nine hours straight. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life. That inner voice that say’s “I am never drinking again” was on repeat. It was 8:30, and I was supposed to meet a A seamstress at 9. I still hadn’t showered, I reek of alcohol. |
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After I make myself decent enough for her take me seriously, I meet up with her and show her my samples. She informs me that she can definitely make the type of clothing that I’m looking for. I misunderstand a lot of what she’s saying, since she speaks her Chinese at hyper-speed. Although it might just be because of my lethal headache from the alcohol the previous night.
We agree to meet up again after the Chinese New Year, when everyone is back at work. I start to get worried about doing business in a place whose language I have not yet mastered. People think I’m fluent, but only because everyone asks the same questions – how many kids do you have? What do you weigh? What height are you? What country are you from? Is Ireland in England? How much money do you make? Why aren’t you married? Why don’t you have kids? Trust me, when you get those questions 24/7, you’ll be banging out those answers real smooth, and probably could even pass for a Chinese person over the phone. Sometimes I like to mix it up. I tell a few porky pies just so I can try some new words! “Yes, I am married, I have four kids, I am buddhist, Ireland is in China, and I’m a lesbian.” And just hope to god that I never see them again. |
Author
Jessica Doolin
