JESSICA DOOLIN
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Luoyang Circus
On The Way To Wuqiao



​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.)
 
 

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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.

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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?

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

Hong Kong

2/28/2019

0 Comments

 
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  So I arrive in Hong Kong after 16 hours of flying, When people say Hong Kong is not China I didn’t believe them until I got here,  it really does not feel or look like China, I couldn’t believe the diversity it has, You can be in a congested, over populated city but then 15 minutes away you can climb the highest mountain in the city and be surrounded by complete nature, You can hop on a boat 20 minutes away and be on a tropical Island drinking Tsingtao on the beach. It is the coolest city ever! I preferred to be on the nature side surrounded by reservoirs and have the option to look over at the beautifully lit high buildings that are placed at all different levels. After just coming from living in the Maldives on a small island in the middle of the Indian ocean, that occupied only 600 people for 3 months, I Don’t think I was ready to be a part of the rat race just yet.

  So, I get to the reception of the hostel I am staying at and the manager greets me with a” howiyeee”. I reply back with a cheeky grin and a ‘‘Irish’? yep he’s Irish. Two days later were best mates and so we hit the town for a game of bowling and some golf. I actually thought it was just for the crack kind of golf but it was full on competitive no messing around, trust us to be the only ones to bring a pack of cans. Anyway, after a tiring few try’s I missed the ball five consecutive times and begged could we put the barriers up for bowling but unfortunately there is no such thing as barriers when it comes to Chinese bowling. Seriously, no messing around. Why are we such Messer’s! 

 Adrian ‘My new Irish manager friend convinces me to join him with his Canadian friend to hit some bars after we finish. I politely say yes. A bucket of beer later, yes, a BUCKET, for them, not me, thank god! And more games of playing darts and pool! Dear god, not another game! We played golf, bowling, darts and pool all in the space of two hours, This CHAP was PURE Irish! true Kerry boi. but I swear if I had to play another game that night I was going to lose my shit. Finally, they calmed down with all that competitiveness and chilled the beans but partially due to the fact of being intoxicated and starting to slightly lose their vision. At this stage I have had enough, it’s well past my bed time so I then Interrupt them both on what it seemed to be a pretty deep drunken conversation, to be told politely ‘could I give them a moment. Weird but ok. I wait patiently for the boys on the ground floor for let’s say, 30 minutes, while I am talking to some Thai waitress trying to convince her to hire me for a hula hoop gig at her bar. Sadly, they only take on pole dancers. Damn it! Worth a try.

 Well the boys are back now at this stage looking very serious. Adrian looks at me with his big googly glazed over eyes and asked me did I notice anything different about him. Hmm' I say, "Mate, I have only known you two days it’s hard for me to tell. He then pulls up his lip and shows us his front tooth which half of it was in his mouth and half of it was in his hand! (Ooops...I literally just realised while typing this I still have his tooth in my wallet.) "WTF happened to you!"  He says he doesn’t really know all he remembers is face planting into the curb. "What! How!? when!?" I tried to calm him down and tell him it didn’t look too bad and nobody would notice even though I was dying inside and knew he looked like an absolute hillbilly and would probably lose his job, I know, I know, I am an awful person, yea... But on the other hand, his Canadian friend was brutally honest and basically told him he looked awful and that he was an idiot for falling over, which I would consider A bit of a dickish move.

 I kind of wanted to punch him but I kept it together. I sound violent but I’m really not, maybe a little temperamental at times as my mother used to say. But I’m 28 now. They say you should have your shit together by your thirties. Anyway, the night came to an end, After Adrian, losing his tooth, wallet, Hong Kong ID card, money, and all his bank cards, we got back safely to the hostel in one piece, well kind of. 

  I have had a pretty epic week here in Hong Kong, I came here initially to draw inspiration from a city that is known for its innovative style and fashion. I checked out some really cool urban neighborhoods one which was called Sheung wan, it almost gave me a feeling I was in a Chinese Shoreditch in London. 

 I am leaving here feeling refreshed with so many ideas for my new collection that I will be working on this year.
As I speak I am on a sleeper train from Guangzhou to Shijiazhuang. The whole reason I flew to Hong Kong in the first place was to visit one of the biggest fabric markets in China, I arrived here this morning only to step out of my taxi to a complete ghost town, I ask the security where is everyone? He said it’s not back open until February 14th. Serious FML moment. It’s the 28th of January now. Another FML. My back is broken from dragging around 20kg bag back and 15kg full of hula hoops. I knew it was Chinese New Year coming up but it doesn’t start until February 5th, how dare they take a break earlier! Oh well, it doesn’t really matter having to come back here again as I won’t be making any clothing until mid-February, it’s an expensive trip but shit happens. At least my back won’t be broke and I can bring nothing but a bum-bag 
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Better sleep. only 5 hours left until I get off the train and catch another train.


Author

Jessica Doolin

0 Comments
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