street with trees, puddles

meat market

waiting, parking lot

friends, escalator

HOV, market

summer fruit

Chengdu is hot, and here the heat carries with it the construction and chemistry of an ever-expanding city. Each avenue has cranes lifting buildings to scrape the sky. There are the workers fitting the beams and concrete spines, and there is the detritus that is falling. Falling on us, falling on the trees, falling on our view. Each breath has a tinny taste and the sky has traded blue for silver grey. But there are also sweet tastes along the streets. The fruit vendors know that breaking into ripe fruit will help you forget the summer heat. I asked a vendor about the box of round purple fruit with little green leaves and stems. Mangosteens. She took one, plucked off the top, twisted the body until it cracked. She turned the exposed insides to me and I took a piece, ate it. Its pulp was sweet and humid and difficult to pin down. And good. Good like summer-warmed fruit can be good. And good because it reminds you that not every great thing is defined by being the tallest, the fastest, the brightest. Sometimes it just has to be the sweetest.

six things we learned at beijing international airport

Spending time on the tarmac

Dinner on the tarmac is not a good sign
You’re in trouble if the food and beverage carts rumble down the aisle before your plane takes off. Those little trays of soggy food are saying, “Don’t be angry with us but your plane isn’t leaving anytime soon; also, can we agree that your consumption of this yummy meal is like promising not to go stir crazy while we wait?”

You cannot have fries with that
An airport just isn’t the same after three runways worth of airplanes have been turned back because of “heavy storms.” Once the planes had disgorged their angry passengers, those passengers unplugged every check-in kiosk and used the outlets to recharge their cellphones and laptops. They banded together late into the night to shout indecipherable demands at airline staff. And they overran McDonalds and bought every last morsel of food that place had to offer. Once the crowds blew through the only thing left for a latecomer was a Coke… and there were no fries with that.

Beijing hotels don’t like dogs
But people love them. Strangers will take the elevator to come and meet your dog because they saw him from upstairs. Children will make him origami temples out of slivers of white paper. And fellow pet-owners will show you photos of their own pets which are safe at home. But while overnighting in Beijing with a dog is great for learning dog-related Chinese vocab, it’s not so great for getting a hotel room. Why? Because most Beijing hotels don’t take dogs. So even though a day of traveling across the globe has left you with a singular desire for a shower, you will instead spend the night in the airport practicing how to say, “Since you like my dog so much, do you think I could use your cell phone?”

You can sleep on anything
Ok, maybe you can’t but the Chinese travelers we saw could sleep anywhere. When the chairs and sofas were all taken, the floor was the obvious place to go next. But after that? Try the conveyer belts that trundle your checked bags away from the counter and towards the airplane. And those big plastic tubs they use for backpacks and odd-sized luggage? Put your kids in them or flip a few over to make a raised sleeping platform. But the real winners in the sleep Olympics were the older guys who’d managed to commandeer a small fleet of golf carts as their own personal dormitory. While the carts recharged in a corner, each guy got comfy on his own row of plush seats. Fortunately for them, this was out of view of the folks curled up in oversized Tupperware.

You shouldn’t cut in line
(But if you do, we’ll help you first)
When the airport is undergoing a period of intense turmoil there are two ways to receive assistance from staff. The most popular is to identify a group of people that is already waiting and shimmy your way up in front of the group. The alternative – deciding who is furthest back in the group and standing behind them – didn't seem very popular.

When we got to the check-in counter for “Fly To Chengdu Attempt #2” it was 4:30 a.m. and things were already a mess. The only option we had was to sidle up to a thick group of already-waiting travelers and see what happened. What happened was that we ended up in front of an English speaker who promptly told Shi-Wen (aka Stefano) that cutting in line wasn’t cool.

Shi-Wen knows cutting in line isn’t cool but he also knows that a prerequisite to cutting in line is that there is actually a line. Was there a line that morning? That’s debatable. Was it a good idea to talk to this guy about how frustrating the whole situation is to a newcomer? Definitely.

Not only did this guy appreciate our frustration, but he also helped make sure that when he got to the front of the line we were right there with him. When it was all said and done, with his assistance we had either cut in front of a great many people or waited in line local style. Success.

Strangers will let you use their cellphones
First we borrowed a cellphone to make a call from the tarmac after we’d been waiting there for over two hours. After we’d gotten off of that plane (still in Beijing) we used someone else’s phone to say we would not be making it to Chengdu that night. Then, after our night in the airport, we borrowed yet another phone to announce that we were on a new flight and finally! on our way to Chengdu. But after we hung up, there was an announcement saying the plane had a problem and we all had to get off. At that point we decided maybe it’d be better if we just stopped calling.

Flight attendants on airplanes = canaries in coalmines
After removing ourselves from Flight #2 we sat on a bus waiting for news. Zero announcements were made but the bus eventually dropped us right back where we’d started – in front of the same plane as before. Only now, the fire truck and the fire hoses from earlier were gone. Did I neglect to mention the fire truck and the fire hoses from earlier? My bad. What about the smell of jet fuel and the big puddle on the tarmac? Well those were gone too. However, if these changes weren’t enough to make you want to hop right back on the airplane and cross your fingers for Chengdu, you could always be like me and ask a flight attendant if it was safe to be getting back on the same plane. Her answer came with a big smile and oodles of enthusiasm, “We’re here, so don’t worry!” That’s great… Just promise you’re not planning to feed us right away.

shoe repairs while you wait

moving

Moving across the world is a fantastic and ugly adventure.

Fantastic for the opportunity to see, taste and live a whole new everything. Ugly because getting to that point is a long and exhausting haul. Along the way there are needles filled with vaccines and there is sweat because moving in July is ill timed, particularly for the folks who are tasked with dragging your sofa from one continent to the next.

Since your new home uses a new (to you) language there are months of Chinese flashcards, and in an effort to protect against culinary homesickness there are almost as many months of gorging on food favorites you worry won’t be the same where you’re going.

There is also an appointment for the root canal you’ve been avoiding, because as little interest as you have in getting an American root canal, your interest in relying on newly minted language skills to negotiate so much as a Chinese teeth cleaning is even less.

But in the mess of to-do’s and don’t-forgets the only true mandatory is momentum.

More than anything, it’s momentum that moves a life across an ocean. It shoves you past the pile of address changes. It keeps you at a trot through the visa applications. And it makes sure you get on the plane before it pulls away from the gate.

Then during your flight all of the hopeful preparations and small, singular steps come together into something so tangible that your plane lands you right in the middle of it. Later you can thank momentum for carrying you past the jet lag and smack into China.

and for our next destination...

There’s no telling where life will take you. And later this month ours is taking us to a country a-great-many-hours-on-a-great-many-airplanes away.

In a big, fluffy, general sense we've known this was coming for a while. What we didn’t know was that our wall calendar always knew a bit more than we did. By the looks of it, the wall calendar already knew where we would be going (and when) last year when we bought it in Milan.

We discovered this when we flipped our calendar from June to July, and its previously random stream of color combinations landed on the above. Realizing our calendar has such an expert grasp on our futures could have come in really handy. Particularly when we were trying to figure out logistical details the old-fashioned way.

Perhaps we should take comfort in the fact that two human brains and a wall calendar have managed to independently come to an agreement on where we should move our lives and when. We just begrudge the fact that the wall calendar figured it out first.