Pauline and I often discuss what the next step will be. After our tour of South America. We both realize that plans for the future, while not being entirely futile, have a funny way of never being realized. Somewhere between right now and "the future," a million obstacles can get in the way. And those obstacles can be good things ! You could find a new job, new city, new love, new mission in life...all before you ever get to the future.
And on that note, I thought about one of my first big life-shifting plans...to teach in China for a year. Well, that never happened, as most of you know. I've told the story a hundred times, but I'm not sure if I've ever written it down.
So here's a story that didn't happen this year, and has nothing to do with South America. It started back in December 2003, while I was traveling in Honduras and Nicaragua.
Traveling with my brothers and some friends in the winter of 2003 in Nicaragua, we were spending Christmas in a little farm next to a little village, on a volcanic island in the middle of the largest lake in the country, Lago de Nicaragua. And on Christmas morning, five or six of us attempted to climb to the rim of the dormant volcano. At the other end of the island lay his active brother. Two-thirds of the way up to the muddy, steep, and switchback-lacking trail, I felt a loss of essence, as Jack D. Ripper would say. I was suddenly short on breath and energy. While not a mountaineer, I was certainly at home scrambling and rambling up and down and around forests, hills, or mountains. It was at this point, just moments before my brother Christian impaled his arm on a branch while slipping on the muddy trail, that I had my first brush with the disease that would later put me in a Chinese hospital bed. Of course, I had no idea of what was to come...
Over the next nine months, I had more and more of these energy-less bouts. But again, I never once thought that they could be related. I forgot about the latest moment of lethargy until I had the next. And then the future changed. Inspired by my brother Ian (he had taught for a year in Korea), I left my job in Florida and agreed to work for a year in China, Jiangsu Province.
My first stop was Los Angeles, where I would spend a few weeks with my friends Jess and Minh before crossing the Pacific. In that time, we made a grand circle tour of the American West, from L.A. to Las Vegas to Aspen toWyoming to Boise to Portland and back to L.A. again. It was during this trip that the headaches started. And the difficulty focusing at night. And the hiccups. Yeah, that's right. I started to have hiccups, every day, several times per day. Still, I did not put two and two together. Didn't see the connection. Or maybe I just didn't want to miss my flight to China.
I arrived in the Shanghai airport in the afternoon where the English teacher Mr. James (he was Chinese) and the school's vice-prinicpal met me. They had made a sign : Mr. Andre' Feldt. It was very sweet. Then, we all took a bus to my new home town, Huai'an. We arrived late into the night. I was showed my apartment. It was a spacious place with four or five rooms plus kitchen and bathroom, but unfortunately, it was located on the, wait for it...., sixth floor ! No elevator ! That moment I had on the volcano in Nicaragua was now every morning, afternoon, and night...just to go to and from work.
On my second day, I visited a clinic for a routine check-up. The result : there's something wrong with your liver. Well, what is it ? Can't say yet for sure, but the results indicate that there's something wrong with your liver. That was the last time I heard about my liver. My disease neither originates nor harms the liver...
For the following two months, I taught at the middle school, a mere 400 meters and six flights of stairs away. I taught 18 classes per week with on average 60 students per class. Let me clarify : 60 Chinese students. In terms of discipline, that's equivalent to three Western students. With each day, I grew weaker and weaker. My hiccups grew stronger and more frequent. The chalk grew heavier, and my will wanted a nap.
Usually, I ate thrice daily at the school's cafeteria. I was very excited to try new foods, even if they were the Chinese equivalents of mystery stew and leftover mixed veggies. They were still delicious. But unfortunately my eyes were always bigger than my stomach. I never finished any of my meals. And they grew smaller and less caloric with each day. After two months in China I was down ten kilos. I was in bad shape. And the worst was still to come.
So what did I do ? Go to the hospital ? Twenty-four years of uninsured American living had taught me better than that. A pharmacy then ? Where I come from, those are only for developing photos. The airport ? I took a trip alright. With my friend Rob, who also taught English at the school. We took a weekend trip to the mountain to climb a sacred mountain, Tai Shan. Only 1,500m tall, 7,200 steps, and two hours of hiking for a fit hiker. I was not a fit hiker. This mountain almost killed me. By 6,000 steps, I felt like I was on top of Everest : one step, breathe breathe breathe, one more step, breathe... By 7,000 steps, Chinese soldiers were offering to carry me to the top. No, no, I had far too much pride for that. And by 7,200 steps, I had spent six hours climbing. I had made it, and without any help. And of all the mountains I have ever climbed in my life, this one remains the toughest, despite its short stature, steps and guardrails, and helpful Chinese soldiers.
Up on top, we found picturesque temple after picturesque temple, beautiful arch after beautiful arch, and tacky gift shop after tacky gift shop. We arrived at 6h00 in the evening, just as the sun started to brush against the horizon and the tourists were making their way back...on foot or by cable car. There's a cable car here ?!!! So much unnecessary pain ! It was hard to breathe and harder to walk. Rob wanted to explore some temples at the far end of the complex. I mentioned that I'd like to descend with the cable car before it closed for the evening, but I was too weak to force the issue. Besides, I wanted to see the temples, too. So, I shuffled after Rob, and together, we admired the architecture with the sunset in the background. And then hurried back to find the cable car empty, unmoving, and closed for the night. Missed it by 15 minutes. That left only one way down...and the Chinese soldiers weren't there anymore to help me. I collapsed in despair. It was November in northern China and the temperature dipped in sync with the sun. I was freezing and sapped of my will to live.
While in my stupor, Rob had found us a room for the night. The info barely registered. I just followed him, slowly, to the building and fell on the bed where I lay half frozen, half sleeping through the night. Fully clothed, I went to pee in the wee hours of the morning and stepped in the giant puddle that was the bathroom floor. My thick socks soaked up every drop they could, and I walked back to bed. I couldn't even fall back asleep. I wanted to cry.
But sleep did come, eventually. I awoke at first light and felt marginally better. Rob was already up and out the door. I sloshed my feet into my shoes to join him. And then, when I opened the door, all the pain seemed worth it. It had snowed all night. The whole temple town was covered in half a foot of snow. And better yet, it was too early for the first tourists to arrive. The snow was untouched. We took a few photos, and enjoyed the moment. But as wonderful as it was, we weren't going to mill about all morning; I was in bad shape and needed to get home. The cable car was as glorious as in my dreams...took mere minutes to return to the city.
And you can read the conclusion here : Down and Out in China, part 2
And on that note, I thought about one of my first big life-shifting plans...to teach in China for a year. Well, that never happened, as most of you know. I've told the story a hundred times, but I'm not sure if I've ever written it down.
So here's a story that didn't happen this year, and has nothing to do with South America. It started back in December 2003, while I was traveling in Honduras and Nicaragua.
Traveling with my brothers and some friends in the winter of 2003 in Nicaragua, we were spending Christmas in a little farm next to a little village, on a volcanic island in the middle of the largest lake in the country, Lago de Nicaragua. And on Christmas morning, five or six of us attempted to climb to the rim of the dormant volcano. At the other end of the island lay his active brother. Two-thirds of the way up to the muddy, steep, and switchback-lacking trail, I felt a loss of essence, as Jack D. Ripper would say. I was suddenly short on breath and energy. While not a mountaineer, I was certainly at home scrambling and rambling up and down and around forests, hills, or mountains. It was at this point, just moments before my brother Christian impaled his arm on a branch while slipping on the muddy trail, that I had my first brush with the disease that would later put me in a Chinese hospital bed. Of course, I had no idea of what was to come...
Over the next nine months, I had more and more of these energy-less bouts. But again, I never once thought that they could be related. I forgot about the latest moment of lethargy until I had the next. And then the future changed. Inspired by my brother Ian (he had taught for a year in Korea), I left my job in Florida and agreed to work for a year in China, Jiangsu Province.
My first stop was Los Angeles, where I would spend a few weeks with my friends Jess and Minh before crossing the Pacific. In that time, we made a grand circle tour of the American West, from L.A. to Las Vegas to Aspen toWyoming to Boise to Portland and back to L.A. again. It was during this trip that the headaches started. And the difficulty focusing at night. And the hiccups. Yeah, that's right. I started to have hiccups, every day, several times per day. Still, I did not put two and two together. Didn't see the connection. Or maybe I just didn't want to miss my flight to China.
I arrived in the Shanghai airport in the afternoon where the English teacher Mr. James (he was Chinese) and the school's vice-prinicpal met me. They had made a sign : Mr. Andre' Feldt. It was very sweet. Then, we all took a bus to my new home town, Huai'an. We arrived late into the night. I was showed my apartment. It was a spacious place with four or five rooms plus kitchen and bathroom, but unfortunately, it was located on the, wait for it...., sixth floor ! No elevator ! That moment I had on the volcano in Nicaragua was now every morning, afternoon, and night...just to go to and from work.
On my second day, I visited a clinic for a routine check-up. The result : there's something wrong with your liver. Well, what is it ? Can't say yet for sure, but the results indicate that there's something wrong with your liver. That was the last time I heard about my liver. My disease neither originates nor harms the liver...
For the following two months, I taught at the middle school, a mere 400 meters and six flights of stairs away. I taught 18 classes per week with on average 60 students per class. Let me clarify : 60 Chinese students. In terms of discipline, that's equivalent to three Western students. With each day, I grew weaker and weaker. My hiccups grew stronger and more frequent. The chalk grew heavier, and my will wanted a nap.
Usually, I ate thrice daily at the school's cafeteria. I was very excited to try new foods, even if they were the Chinese equivalents of mystery stew and leftover mixed veggies. They were still delicious. But unfortunately my eyes were always bigger than my stomach. I never finished any of my meals. And they grew smaller and less caloric with each day. After two months in China I was down ten kilos. I was in bad shape. And the worst was still to come.
So what did I do ? Go to the hospital ? Twenty-four years of uninsured American living had taught me better than that. A pharmacy then ? Where I come from, those are only for developing photos. The airport ? I took a trip alright. With my friend Rob, who also taught English at the school. We took a weekend trip to the mountain to climb a sacred mountain, Tai Shan. Only 1,500m tall, 7,200 steps, and two hours of hiking for a fit hiker. I was not a fit hiker. This mountain almost killed me. By 6,000 steps, I felt like I was on top of Everest : one step, breathe breathe breathe, one more step, breathe... By 7,000 steps, Chinese soldiers were offering to carry me to the top. No, no, I had far too much pride for that. And by 7,200 steps, I had spent six hours climbing. I had made it, and without any help. And of all the mountains I have ever climbed in my life, this one remains the toughest, despite its short stature, steps and guardrails, and helpful Chinese soldiers.
Up on top, we found picturesque temple after picturesque temple, beautiful arch after beautiful arch, and tacky gift shop after tacky gift shop. We arrived at 6h00 in the evening, just as the sun started to brush against the horizon and the tourists were making their way back...on foot or by cable car. There's a cable car here ?!!! So much unnecessary pain ! It was hard to breathe and harder to walk. Rob wanted to explore some temples at the far end of the complex. I mentioned that I'd like to descend with the cable car before it closed for the evening, but I was too weak to force the issue. Besides, I wanted to see the temples, too. So, I shuffled after Rob, and together, we admired the architecture with the sunset in the background. And then hurried back to find the cable car empty, unmoving, and closed for the night. Missed it by 15 minutes. That left only one way down...and the Chinese soldiers weren't there anymore to help me. I collapsed in despair. It was November in northern China and the temperature dipped in sync with the sun. I was freezing and sapped of my will to live.
While in my stupor, Rob had found us a room for the night. The info barely registered. I just followed him, slowly, to the building and fell on the bed where I lay half frozen, half sleeping through the night. Fully clothed, I went to pee in the wee hours of the morning and stepped in the giant puddle that was the bathroom floor. My thick socks soaked up every drop they could, and I walked back to bed. I couldn't even fall back asleep. I wanted to cry.
But sleep did come, eventually. I awoke at first light and felt marginally better. Rob was already up and out the door. I sloshed my feet into my shoes to join him. And then, when I opened the door, all the pain seemed worth it. It had snowed all night. The whole temple town was covered in half a foot of snow. And better yet, it was too early for the first tourists to arrive. The snow was untouched. We took a few photos, and enjoyed the moment. But as wonderful as it was, we weren't going to mill about all morning; I was in bad shape and needed to get home. The cable car was as glorious as in my dreams...took mere minutes to return to the city.
And you can read the conclusion here : Down and Out in China, part 2
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