Gerbrandy, A. (Anna)

As I step out of the apartment…

As I step out of the apartment building the heat hits me: the warmth and humidity is shocking after the cool of the air-conditioned bedroom. I didn’t sleep very well. I am nervous because it’s the first day of teaching in this strange environment. Also the bed seems to lack a mattress. I even tried to flip over the thing-posing-as-mattress, for want of a better word, to see if it was accidentally placed the wrong side up. Not so. So in the end I wrapped myself in the blanket, soft as feathers and shiny new, to cushion my hips. Still feel bruised, though. I walk to the bus stop and try to remember the Chinese character for ‘University’ – a composite of ‘big’ and ‘school’, I have learned – so I can recognize it on the destination of the many busses passing me. Bicycles and tricycles, and gazillions of mopeds whizz or put-put by, many of their drivers protected by goggles and facemasks against the smog. It’s a relief to find that the bus numbers are recognizable, and yes, I remember which number to take. I think I am going in the right direction. Aren’t I? It’s also a relief that the busses are air-conditioned. I stand between the people in the bus, feeling very tall, big-boned (or just very Dutch), and watch the video on the phone of the girl standing next to me. Some kind of soap opera show-thingy; universally recognizable.

I have correctly remembered where to get off the bus, walk across from the huge statue of Mao that graces the entrance of the university building, into a little side street to find breakfast. I haven’t had coffee since I arrived the day before yesterday. Lots of tea, though. I am really craving coffee. No, no coffee in this street, but there is a nice little bakery. Sweet pastries for breakfast. Still have to get the hang of the coins though, and as I try to figure out which banknote to use, at least three persons have skipped in front of me to order and pay. Munching – the pastries are very good – I walk towards the entrance of ‘my’ building. It’s still early morning, and hot. Did I mention that already? And it’s getting warmer. Not much shade crossing the stony courtyards. And I am wrongly dressed in my summery dress, I realise as I take in the women I see. Many wear very short shorts, but no spaghetti-straps. Lots of t-shirts with whatever illustration, and many wrongly spelled logo’s, some of which are extremely funny. I have on spaghetti-straps, but nobody seems to take offence. I did not bring any shorts.

Drenched with unladylike sweat I feel out of place and somewhat lonely, surrounded by people whose language is so far removed from any that I know that I have really no clue what they are saying. Flashing signs that I do not comprehend flank the streets, the street vendors sell stuff I have no idea what to do with (expect for the food, obviously one eats the food). I am jet-lagged, have coffee-withdrawal symptoms, and what was it again that I am doing here anyway?

Oh, yes! As I enter the classroom, see the students waiting for me there, get the presentation started even though the computer coughs up only Chinese characters (but Windows is recognizable everywhere it seems), get goose bumps from the air-conditioning, get to know the students, start the lecture, turn down the air-conditioning somewhat, engage in the discussion and steer it towards the concepts relevant for today’s topic; as I draw in the quiet girl in the corner and do what I do as a teacher, I not only remember what I am doing here, I feel right at home. I am teaching a summer course in Shanghai, to an international group of students. And teaching is teaching everywhere, students are students where ever they are from, and I feel myself getting comfortable, happy, content. This is fun.

After two weeks I negotiate public transport like a pro (I can even take a different bus number or a bus from somewhere else because I recognize the character for University and yes, I am extraordinarily proud of this accomplishment) and have gotten to know the actors in the soap-on-the-phone of the girl in the bus. It’s a marriage soap, with lots of extended family-members, if you must know, and the husband is unfaithful and the wife is in love with someone else, but there are complications with business and the in-laws… and no, you probably do not want to know. I use only half of the clothes I brought as I forgo the almost-bare-shoulder-dresses, but do not mind, and have no trouble sleeping rolled up like a sausage. I have noodle soup for breakfast and have tried duck feet for dinner (though have not repeated the experience) and I have found a Starbucks (what else?) around the other corner. There are loads of Starbucks around in this amazing, vibrant and so very lively, city. On the subway I have a hilarious conversation with a group of women whose language I do not speak but who still start questioning me, leading to frustration on both sides until we discuss children, boys in particular, by showing each other pictures on our mobiles and mime-acting how we try to parent them. And I have gotten to know this amazing group of students, who are not only bright and interested but also seem to have a talent for bridging any cultural or communication gap we come across in- and outside the classroom. I have even gotten used to the heat. Well, only a little bit, let’s not exaggerate.

So come summer, I am doing it again.

Anna Gerbrandy