Looking Back…

This past month or so has been an unsettling but exciting time for me. Moving into the new apartment and figuring out what my routine should be, getting into the rhythm of teaching, coaching Tony for the English speech competition, and now Evan as well. Making small shopping excursions to add personal touches to my little house. Planning holidays – a little early for that, I know. But if I want to get my gifts stateside on time, I have to get them in the mail soon. Enjoying the occasional lunches with my colleagues – and the joy of knowing I actually have colleagues, not a group of teachers who are out of reach to me like they were last year.

All in all, exciting, but unsettling, too. Workmen parading through the house. That bad water leak that is consuming my dining room wall that no one has paid attention to. Still only having an electronic hotplate and my little grill to cook with. No heat, and now the weather is turning colder. This year’s crop of students is restless and inattentive, not interested in the curriculum that so fascinated the groups I taught last year. Still no internet connection.

It is that last one that is the most disturbing. Mostly because I feel out of touch with the world, but also because entire days go by where I do not touch a keyboard. And I call myself a writer!

In the concrete bunker I would wake up, turn on the computer, make tea and spend the better part of the days I don’t teach at the keyboard. Responding to emails, reading the news and writing about events to keep my blog current. Without the internet giving me incentive to turn on a computer first thing in the morning, there are stretches of time where I do not face a computer at all.

And now I’m frustrated. I’ve gotten so far behind on my blog that I am at a loss on how to get caught up. Looking back over the things I have written I find huge, gaping holes in my narrative. It is time to start plugging them up.

I forgot to tell you about my last night in the States, and that was a significant night, spent in the company of my good friend Debbie. She and I pulled an all-nighter.

This entry is dedicated to Debbie and the time we enjoyed together.

Debbie and I met on my first trip to China, back in 2008. Of all the people on that trip I feel she was the most impacted by our tour. Indeed, of those with whom I’ve stayed in touch of that group brought together by the International Scholar Laureate Program, Debbie has gone the farthest and has been the only one who has not returned to the same ole same ole life that she led before tasting the Orient.

Debbie is from Puerto Rico, where most of her family still resides. Shortly after our trip to China her father passed away and, rather than returning home she toughed it out in New York, making her bid for law school (she did get in). As her family squabbled over estate matters she cruised through her classes, earning high marks with astounding speed. While most students take a standard course load, Debbie piled the classes on, studying late into the night and always getting up for class the next day. She has interned in Washington DC, Italy and Germany. She has more stamps in her passport than the post office has philatelic plates. And through all of this she has time to stay in touch and even read this blog. Hats off to Debbie!

As you can surely see, my esteem for her is not groundless. It is not her accomplishments alone that move me though. It is the type of person she is: secure in herself, ready to face the world alone if need be, armed with the strength of her convictions. She wishes to go into immigration law, probably the touchiest field a lawyer can enter. She knows she can make a difference in that field. I know she will make a difference no matter what she does or where she goes.

She went to New York City. I had an overnight layover there and it would be the only chance we would be able to see each other until… who knows when? We hadn’t seen each other face to face since that initial meeting, three years ago. With Debbie as with me, once a friend always a friend, and one should do everything possible to sustain that friendship. She decided her morning classes were not that important. Visiting with me was. She put herself on the train and came to the Big Apple, two hours away from her campus.

She met me at the airport and that was a good thing. I didn’t have a clue where to go or what to do with myself. If not for Debbie I would have spent the night in the airport, napping in uncomfortable chairs and groaning over my discomfort. Debbie knows her way around the city, the first clue to that being that she marched me straight to the desk in the airport that secures hotels for weary travelers. I didn’t even know that type of service existed!

The clerk booked us a room at the International JFK Airport Hotel, which provides a shuttle to its facility. With nothing more to do than wait for our bus, Debbie and I gossiped like a gaggle of geese, although I don’t think only two geese make a gaggle.

First we talked about appearances. Debbie is stunning in her looks – quite beautiful in fact. She has the most remarkable brown eyes and a smile to launch ships by. She is nearly as tall as I am and her head is crowned by a glorious mane of dark, naturally curly hair. Her complexion reflects her healthy outlook on life: smooth, glowing, fresh and full of possibility. She carries herself with an assuredness that eludes even people who are secure in this world. And she wears this look as casually as a businessman wears a suit.

She is equally complimentary of my appearance although I’m sure she resorted a bit to hyperbole. No look of world experience can compare to the freshness of youth or the eagerness of possibility or the verve of life that Debbie embodies. With traditional female niceties disposed of we got into the meat of things.

The meat, the tofu and the vegetable of things as it turns out. We talked about everything. Painful things, like her family’s squabble over her father’s estate and the epiphany I had this February past, when bus grilles looked tempting. Happy things like adventures overseas: mine in China and hers in Europe. Mundane things: would either of us settle for a traditional life when we know the entire world beckons? Probably not. And we laughed. Oh, my word how we laughed! Sneaking downstairs at three in the morning, with that exaggerated tiptoe used by cartoon characters as we walked past rooms with ‘do not disturb’ signs on the door handles. Or when, on one of our downstairs excursions we saw a woman so overly done up in layers of makeup and sporting a feathered boa, cursing like a sailor while feathers kept fanning her mouth. She swept them away only when she paused long enough in her tirade to puff on her cigarette.

As with all great times, no single thing made it great. Just the joy at good friends well met, who might not ever occupy the same space again but know that each is important to the other. One thing that did make me quite happy outside the pleasure of her company: ordering a pizza. In my whole Stateside Adventure I had wanted to order a pizza and have it delivered to me. Not that food delivery is unheard of in China, I’ve just never done it here. I wanted to experience it stateside while I knew what I was ordering and how the delivery system works. So we ordered a pizza and a two liter bottle of diet coke.

Obviously I reveled in that one night spent in Debbie’s company. There is however one more subject to comment on: the hotel.

While the clerk at the airport did exactly what his job entails – finding accommodations for travelers weary or un-, his computer did not update in time to reflect that, by the time we arrived at the hotel all the rooms were taken. Nevertheless the night manager, Moshin Ali did not turn us away. Instead he gave us a suite for the price of a room. Thus Debbie and I got to spend our night together in the comfort of an entire living space, graciously appointed. My compliments to both the hotel, and to this resourceful manager. If you ever have to spend the night, or even sojourn into New York I highly recommend this establishment. Look them up at www.hijfkairport.com. When you get there, please say “HI” for me to either Mr. Ali or Mr. Lewiston Murray, the overnight desk manager who continued to marry travelers to beds throughout the night.