Unfortunately, memories of my trek through the Southwest are becoming increasingly foggy as the routine of daily life takes its toll. Since the teaching started again last week, it seems like I have been stuck in a bit of a rut. The thrill of being back in comfy Hangzhou has now evaporated, quickly replaced by lesson planning, photocopies and hours of staring at my laptop trying to sort out grad school applications.
Today was particularly rough. My morning involved four hours of class addressing stereotypes, ethnicity and nationality which did not seem to go over particularly well. I’m quite frustrated because I put a good amount of time and effort into the preparation of this lesson, not to mention putting my own money towards the photocopies that proceed to get destroyed in three seconds. The toughest part about lessons that tank is that I’m never quite sure where the problem lies: are the topics too complex? Is the vocabulary too hard? Did I not prepare enough? Or will the students remain apathetic and uninvolved no matter what I do? Many of them seem convinced that it is completely the teacher’s responbility to make them active, like opening their own mouths has nothing to do with it.
During my free time this afternoon I didn’t fare much better. Instead of hunkering down to finish editing my grad school statement of purpose as I had promised myself, I fell asleep for several hours in front of The Simpsons on DVD. If that’s not the image of productivity I don’t know what is. Seriously though, it’s pretty amazing how a few hours of rough class can put you out of mental commission for the rest of the day.
And this trend of negativity continued on into the evening. Hoping to break the monotony of my eating habits, I set out with another teacher for a meal at a Xinjiang restaurant. On the way, I almost got hit by a bus as I walked across an intersection. The cyclist behind me wasn’t so lucky: he did get hit by the bus. Why is vehicle traffic given a green light to turn right while bikes and pedestrians are given a green light to cross? I have no clue. And why do vehicles feel the urge to take these corners at about 60 km/h? Again, I have no clue. It seems I end up near some sort of road accident almost everyday now.
Turns out the Xinjiang restaurant was closed for renovations, despite a distinct memory of being told three weeks ago that it would be “open in ten days”. I guess I should have known better. Still on the “let’s eat something different” kick, we decided to head for the Brazilian barbecue restaurant that had served as a great backup after our previous attempt at enjoying Xinjiang cuisine. Well guess what? They had now closed this restaurant for renovations too. Oh yeah, and on our way there, I almost got hit by another car, once again crossing on the green as some hotshot in a white Santana thought it would be a great idea to see how little space he could leave between us and the curb.Foiled, we made our way back to one of the now familiar restaurants near our apartment complex. Our simple mission to inject culinary excitement into our daily routines had been thorougly thwarted.
Hangzhou has recently been a bit of a downer. I don’t blame this city at all, but more the place I have made for myself in it. I need to break out of my routine. Although this might sound ridiculous to some, life in China’s bigger cities can be numbing, mundane and boring, especially when it consists mostly of interaction with screens, copy machines and disinterested students. At times like these, the crowds and chaos on the streets are oppressive, not energizing. Perhaps I’ll remember today as the one when the thrill of it all truly died. Daily life can suck, no matter what continent you are on.