Just Another Day

5:00AM. First alarm goes off.

Doug is out of bed on the first ring. He has a big day today and unfortunately a very early morning. Burying myself in my covers, I wait for my alarm. Minutes before my alarm goes off, I feel a kiss goodbye and utter a sleepy good luck.

5:45AM. My turn.

As I am silencing the alarm, I hear Eric’s feet scamper down the stairs back to his room. I can already tell his first night sleeping in underwear didn’t go well.

7:15AM.

Sheets have been pulled off two beds, the sniff test performed on at least 100 stuffed animals, and I somehow have managed to get two fully dressed kids out the door with fruit bars in hand. Praise, bribe, threats, praise, bride, threats, not necessarily in that order. It’s a walking day and a Monday. That means two backpacks, two clean sleeping bags, milk, a puppy dog (he survived the great flood), a transformer, and two kids all in one bright orange BOB jogging stroller. We attract attention on any given day, but are particularly a sight this morning.

7:50AM. The school gates are in sight.

I am always amazed when we make it without incident. But I have gotten pretty good at predicting the trajectory of the oncoming spit, knowing where the food streets are so we can avoid the leftovers on our tires, and walking fast. I wipe the kids' mouths and hands with my shirt, I shake the leftover fruit bar off their bums, and greet the guards with a cheery Zao Shang Hao (good morning). 10 minutes later (ok..more like 15), the kids are off to the land of learning and playing and I am back on the streets for a run home.

My route always starts out nice. It is a 4 mile loop from school to home that starts in an expat area. I weave in and out of the street cleaners with their homemade brooms. I pass the occasional foreigner walking their dog. It feels like I have beaten everyone up this morning. About 2 miles in, I make a right turn and am quickly reminded that I live in a city of 24 million people whose day started hours ago. It is like an obstacle course, hopping over spare scooter parts, tip-toeing through puddles of who knows what, and running around the crowds of people waiting for the buses. I am always amazed at the myriad of smells one can encounter in such a short distance. Dogs must go crazy here. Fresh baked bread, sulfur, sewage, urine, over ripened fruit, and then there’s that “China smell”. It is hard to explain. It is a mixture of plastic, rubber, and some sort of cleaner. It is everywhere. Breathing out of your nose here is at your own risk and sometimes unavoidable.

I stop at an intersection waiting for the “green man” and witness yet another taxi hit a scooter. The scooter driver seems ok, but is rubbing his knee and gingerly bending it to make sure everything still works. I spend the next 2 blocks wondering why people don’t wear helmets here, not even kids. Watching kids and their parents, I see kids as young as 1 standing on scooters on their way to wherever with no restraints and no helmet. I almost put helmets on the kids in the stroller on the way to school, but figure it might be a bit over the top. At the next intersection, waiting again for the green man, I find myself standing next to a dog. Oddly enough he appears to be waiting for the signal to walk as well. And the second it turns green, he glances to the left and takes off across the street. Crazy.

1 block from home, I nearly knock over an old man as I jump out of the way of a scooter that appeared out of nowhere. After a badly pronounced dui bu qi (I'm sorry), I sprint for the gates to our compound, passing the people whose job it is to collect the cardboard and bottles from anyone willing to sell it to them. It is early for them still, so they are napping in the shade on top of their wagons. Through the gates, I am welcomed by silence, trees, and clean sidewalks. I pass by the elderly women practicing tai chi in the courtyard. I walk to my building and say a few hellos to the other drivers waiting for their bosses. I luck out and get the elevator that is air conditioned. I open our door and say Ni Hao (hello) to Xiao Huang, wishing I could ask her how her weekend was. I already hear the screams of the saws and drills in the apartment above us. Renovation…should be done by February.

I glance at the clock, it is 8:46AM. Time to start my day.