Chengdu

Okay, it's been about twenty years since I've blogged, and there's lots of stuff to tell you.  But, because I hate reading one long endless post myself, I'm breaking this up into segments.  You can thank me later.
The first part of our holiday (sidenote -- SO Chinese!  They use British vocabulary for everything -- you should see their expressions when we tell them where our apartment is, they only know the word "flat" so they're completely lost -- anyway, they never say vacation or break.  It's a holiday.  "Did you have a nice holiday?"  "What a lovely holiday!"  So now, because we hear it so much, we use it, and end up feeling rather like a mix between uppity Brit and giggly schoolkids.  Anyway.) was in Chengdu for language school.  And yes, I realize that my parenthetical note was about a paragraph long and you just had to scroll up and see what in the world sentence I just finished.
Chengdu.  Language school.  One month.  50 hours.  Painful, brain-squeezing, mind-twisting, language-cramming experience.
Loved it.
We shared any apartment with another couple for the month and knew that we'd come out on the other side really loving or really hating them.  We love them.  We wish they lived closer.  We probably know more about Wade and Leah than we'd really like to, such as bathroom habits, odd quirks, and random phobias, but the whole situation went more smoothly than we could have hoped.
Problem with Chengdu -- it's cold.  I know this sounds strange from a "Haerbinren" (Harbin person) but we have HEAT up here.  Our apartments are warm, our classrooms are warm, the shops are warm.  In central China, where Chengdu is, they have teeny little units on the walls in some rooms, not all, of the apartments, and none in school classrooms, restaurants, or shops.  Most of the restaurants are even doorless, so you don't have the relief of being out of the elements.  It's a damp cold too, so you never really feel dry.  And get this -- we knew we were heading down to Vietnam, so we opted to just take our lightweight jackets instead of our heavy coats.
We froze.  We wore many many layers.  Our toes were sad and pitiful.  I still can't believe, out of all the things I could have forgotten to pack, I forgot the socks I'd knitted for us for this very trip.  Sigh.
This is why, we think, that province is known for its spicy food.  Heat.  Seriously, we went out to a few Chinese restaurants when we girls needed a cooking break, and a solid third of each dish was the hot peppers.  Your lips burn like crazy, but it tastes so good.  The best one was a potato dish where they slice up the potatoes super super tiny, smaller than toothpicks, and fry 'em up with peppers (of course) and a little vinegar.  AMAZING.  Worth the trip back down just to eat them again.
So, we love Wade and Leah, we love the food, we hate the weather, the classes were great and we learned a ton.  Best story from Chengdu, though, is the bike-riding.
Okay.  Our first week of classes, we took the bus to school, but it took about 45 minutes and we were super short on time.  So, the second week, we started using the bikes from the apartment we were renting.
All of us almost died at some point.
I'm going to try and set the scene for biking in a big Chinese city.  Take an intersection with about three lanes going in each direction.  Put lights in that intersection that really aren't thought highly of and are seen as more of suggestions than rules.  Add a few traffic cops who stand on little pedestals (seriously) and wave their hands around, trying not to get hit.  Then bring in the taxis.  And buses.  And cars.  And three-wheeled trike wagon things, loaded with boxes, bags, animals, people.  Then bring in motorcycles, scooters, bikes.  Then pedestrians.  Dogs.  Kids.  Now, important to remember here -- no one pays attention to the rules.  You go when you see an opportunity.  Period.  Now, the noise -- horns honking, buses blaring, dogs barking, people yelling, bike bells brrriiinnging, traffic cops blowing on their piercing whistles.  You can't hear yourself think.
Now bike across that intersection without hitting anybody or getting hit yourself.
You see my point.
Once you get across the intersection and are lucky enough to have a bike lane, you may think you're set -- but no, you are not.  Normally, you'd just have bike traffic (which is substantial) plus motorcycles and scooters.  Then, if the sidewalk is crowded, pedestrians jump on over into the bike lane.  (Can't blame 'em much, the bikers do the same to them.)  Then the trike-wagons jump in sometimes, taking up the whole lane.  Cars are prone to avoiding traffic by crossing that little white line, too.
So, you see, the bike lane is not all it's cracked up to be.
Then you've got little streets spilling into the main roads with no warning whatsoever, so you've got to stay on your toes.  Cars backing out of their parking spaces -- on the sidewalk -- into the bike lane.  Other bikers thinking you're too slow and whizzing around you with maybe two inches to spare.
The first day, I was terrified.  I knew this was my death.  No way was I going to survive.
Let me think.  Justin got hit by a motorcycle (not hard, it was backing up).  Leah got hit by a car (just her back wheel, she's fine).   Wade slammed on his brakes to avoid a kid and got hit by me (this was his fault, not mine, and I'm sticking to that).  I hit two cars, a pole, and somebody's foot.
Don't judge me.
But here's the thing -- we all loved it by the time we left.  We were no longer being whizzed by, we were doing the whizzing.  And, there's something super fun about ringing a bike bell.  It brought back lots of great childhood memories, even with freezing rain pelting our faces, and when you add in the adrenaline rush of maybe dying any second, it was super fun.
We've decided that if we ever live in the heart of a city like that, we're buying bikes, despite the risks.  It's quick, it's fun, and once you learn to think like a Chinese driver, it's not so difficult.
Okay, so that's Chengdu.  I'll get the next "holiday happenings" post up soon.