Grey skies and blue water

From my trip to the art district two weeks ago.

The sky was a haze of grey this morning. For the first time in a week or more the sky lacked any hue of the pure blue we had grown, perhaps foolishly, accustomed to. It felt clean and today felt musty.

Beijing is a city of excessive crowds. It's surprising, though, that I have yet to feel helpless (came close once or twice when trying to communicate with a late night cabbie, but we managed to see eye to eye). It's easy when you're surrounded with people who know the ropes and are willing to show them to you. After a time, though, there must be a point where it becomes a hassle. Possibly not, but I know that I don't want to constantly be in need of piggy backing in order to get where I want to go. In a city this large, where I can be anonymous, I will savour the occasional hour or two of solitude I can muster outside the confines of campus life.

For that's what it is; a campus. It's first year all over again in many respects, only I have an entire apartment to myself; a step up. The communal life is a great social experience. Being in such close confines we are forced to get to know one another quickly. I could slam and lock my door and be a hermit but that would be alienating and no fun.

Solitary time is rare, and that makes it all the more necessary to nab when you can. Saving sleep for the only time you are alone with your thoughts is a dangerous enterprise, you may lose yourself and find a day where up and down are interchangeable. Some may function well in that chaotic landscape of constant stimulation, not I.

I went swimming. We have a pool in our school. I have been planning to abuse its presence since I arrived nearly three weeks ago but have been lazy and/or otherwise preoccupied. In other words: I have not made time for it and instead have sat on my ass on the couch watching Supernatural and telling myself I would swim eventually.

The poolside and the pool itself were empty. I looked around for a lifeguard. I found him in the side office talking on his cell phone and lying down on a cot. He waved me to the pool assuring me it was fine. He got up, walked around the sidelines a bit as I started my laps. I am not a professional swimmer; I barely qualify as amateur it turns out. I was gassed after ten minutes. Four laps in, with several pauses to catch my breath, I looked up expecting to see the clock had gone half an hour. I had, indeed, been in the water ten minutes. Despite being the only one there, I knew I'd feel severe shame and embarrassment if I quit that soon. I pushed, got a second wind, and improved my times by the end.

I don't think the chlorine was especially good for my skinned foot. During the protest, when our school was closed, some teachers had a pick up game of soccer baseball. Something about that game brings out the competitive bull in me. I tried, and succeeded, in stretching a single into a double. I dove head first and the top of my foot skidded on the turf. Returning to the field after the inning I looked down to inspect a sharp pain and the skin on the top of my foot was gone in two places. It's healing thanks to the generous gift of polysporin and band aids from my colleagues.

It was much worse.

Shanghai in a week.