Culture Shock

At first, everything was new and overwhelming. When I arrived in Hong Kong I found my way through the busy airport to customs and baggage claim. After locating my bags my top priority was food. I used my Visa to buy a cup of watermelon, which I practically swallowed whole, as I hadn’t eaten since brunch with JB 16 hours prior. I couldn’t convince my nervous stomach to handle the vegetarian option on the plane, which I’m convinced was a piece of styrofoam with canned hollandaise sauce poured over it. My master plan was to beat jet lag by staying awake through the flight in order to be tired when I arrived late at night in Zhong Shan. It worked; I was TIRED- the kind of tired where thoughts become sentences in the simplest form. I remember thinking, ‘Watermelon tastes good in China’. I waited for Howard at Popeye’s Chicken in the Hong Kong airport. He showed up with one of the players that he coaches, Dani. He apologized for their tardiness, explaining that it was Dani’s 21^st birthday and they were buying her an Ipad. She beamed, holding up her shopping bag. We whisked away onto a bus, riding 30 minutes into the heart of Honk Kong. I remember this night as a blur of people everywhere, pushing, cutting in line, and yelling. It felt similar to New York City in July: dirty, crowded, muggy and swarms of people rushing around with a sense of urgency, as if the building is on fire. I lugged my cargo off of the bus and onto a subway toward immigration. As I filled out my paperwork my tired eyes saw double. I handed the papers to a Chinese official who looked at my passport and visa uncomfortably thoroughly before letting me pass. We waited in line as I watched people run, holler, and bicker over taxis as if each one had a trunk full of gold. Twenty minutes later we found ourselves in a taxi taking us to Howard’s car. Before hitting the road we stopped at McDonald’s. I don’t even eat McDonald’s food in America, but here I was on the other side of the world under the golden arches. I settled for mushroom and onion soup. After a quick ‘bathroom’ stop (imagine a sink in the ground) we were finally on the way to Zhong Shan. I passed out immediately in the back seat and woke up an hour and a half later at my new doorstep. We carried my bags to my apartment, up three floors. The apartment was stuffy and smelled like mothballs, but I saw a bed (well, a mat and an air mattress on the floor) and couldn’t ask for any more. I’d been traveling for 36 hours. Howard said something about meeting in the morning but in my head the lights were already out.

My first meal in China

Waking up the next morning was a struggle. I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh dear. I couldn’t have looked more tired if I had swum here instead of flown. I splashed some cold water on my face and went to meet Howard with the directions I vaguely remembered him giving me the night before. Surely he didn’t say the tennis courts were on the roof. A block from my apartment I trudged with heavy feet up three flights of stairs to the roof of the wet market where there are two tennis courts and a clubhouse (I use this term loosely, as it’s no more than a humble room with couches, a table at which we eat, a TV and a stringing loom). I wandered into the clubhouse where I met Flash, Danimamma, and Oldman. Flash trains and teaches here with Howard and Dani. Danimamma schedules lessons, and Oldman looks after the property. We all stared at each other for a few seconds until Damimamma motioned to the food on the table. That’s all I needed to hear. Unfortunately, every dish had meat in it except for a cucumber and cilantro salad.  I was so hungry that those veggies tasted like birthday cake. Danimamma handed me the phone and Howard instructed me to go with Danimamma and Flash to the

The wet market below the courts

school. We walked a few silent blocks to the school where we served lunch (McDonalds, of course) to 70 kids. Did I mention I was TIRED?

That afternoon we played doubles. To me, this meant ‘go time, baby’. I may be 7,000 miles from home, but a tennis court is 36 feet wide by 78 feet long everywhere. Howard, Dani, Flash and I played a set. I played the best I could with feet of lead and arms of Jell-O. Dani and Flash are GOOD players. Regardless of my complaining muscles, being on the court felt amazing- like putting on a favorite sweater on a cold day. It is my comfort zone, where I am the freest version of me. That afternoon I started giving lessons. Most of the children know at least a little bit of English. Though, none of them know who Pocahontas is. As I mimed forehand impressions to the kids I made a mental note that I need to learn Mandarin.

This guy is 60 years old!

A week and a half later, I finally feel rested. A routine has set in; in the morning I roll out of bed and onto my mat for yoga and meditation. I Skype my friends and family back home (who are about to go to bed), stop by a fruit stand for lychee (my new favorite fruit- spiky red balls with a rind that holds sweet and juicy, translucent, fleshy goodness) and head up to the clubhouse for lunch. Every day at noon Oldman cooks lunch for us. He is a very good cook, using a variety of vegetables that he purchases each morning from local farmers at the wet market downstairs. Each day he feeds 6 humans, five turtles, two dogs, a rabbit and a chicken. All of the animals kept here are pets that have been saved from becoming someone’s dinner. I sit quietly and listen to everyone banter in Chinese as we eat, willing Howard to fill me in. As lunch finishes, I clean up the mess I’ve made due to my mediocre chopstick skills and say to Oldman, ‘Zhen haochi!’ (That was delicious!), butchering the

One of our pardoned pets behind the courts

pronunciation. This leads to an hour lesson from Oldman in speaking Chinese. While I learn, Dani and Flash play on their Iphones and Danimamma watches Chinese soap operas. Every once in a while someone will look up to interject their pronunciation of a word, or to laugh at my failed attempts to correctly say ‘bathroom’ (cesuo….why would you make ‘bathroom’ such a difficult word to say?!) As soon as lunch settles, we have tennis practice. As much as I enjoy teaching tennis, my spirit comes alive when I get to play. We either have a casual hit, or Howard puts us through drills that leave us exhausted, our shirts drenched in sweat. After practice we give lessons until late at night. When I get home I eat the dinner Oldman packed for me-vegetables and mushrooms. Before bed I message people back in America, wishing them to enjoy their day that is just beginning- the day that I have just finished.

This is not a very exciting routine, but it feels good to be grounded again. I have had plenty of excitement in the past few weeks. My psyche now craves discipline and my soul craves comfort. Now, as I sit writing in the clubhouse, Danimamma’s ‘Chinese Days of Our Lives’ is blaring in the background. Oldman hands me a piece of fig scone, fresh from the oven. I take a bite and know that I have found yet another place on this earth where I feel at home.