Travel to School With Me!

I put on my shoes and grab my backpack as I leave the apartment, call for the malodorous elevator, and ride down seven floors to the lobby. I swipe my key-card to exit the lobby door and descend the stairs that lead out to the road. Passing by cars that are parked  in spots as well as on the sidewalk, and walking under large trees whose leaves are just hinting that they will soon turn orange, I wind my way out of our complex, thanking the guard who swipes his key card to open the gate so that I don't have to.

Turning left, I pass the small beverage shop outside the gate and nod to the rental agent in the black business suit with green and gold sash who stands, as always, next to a large sign advertising places for rent. At the end of the street I turn right and climb three flights of stairs into the light-rail station, passing crowds of people in overcoats who are clearly on their way to work for the day. I remove my backpack and put in on the conveyor belt that takes it through the x-ray machine. The expressionless uniformed guard watching the screen has her eyes at half-mast, and I'm fairly certain she's not really seeing anything that passes by.

I swipe my subway card, go through the entry gates and follow the signs towards Tiantongyuan North. They lead me up three more flights of stairs where I position myself on one of the yellow arrows pointing toward the glass doors that separate the platform from the track below. A small woman in a blue jumpsuit, head bowed, diligently sweeps trash and dirt into her long-handled dust pan. "The train in the direction of Tianongyuan Norse is approaching. Please keep off the screen-doha before it is open." Few people are going north at this time of the morning. I still don't get a seat, but I have plenty of personal space. A baby is sitting on his mama's lap, smiling at me with his dark eyes and pearly white teeth, providing me with ample entertainment as we glide along the tracks. "This train is bound for Tiantongyuan Norse. We are arriving at Tiantongyuan Souse. Please get ready for your arrivo." I exit the train humming, "This train is bound for glory, this train...." as I leave the station.

I have a bit of a walk ahead of me. First I pass the breakfast vendors whose metal carts line the alley way outside of the station. The scent of  eggs, sausages, fried bread and steamed dumplings tempts me to pick up a snack for my journey, but I remind myself that I had breakfast just a little while ago. As I pass through a small gate, my path leads me through several fruit stands, and past a magazine shop and a shoe repair table. As I enter the biggest apartment complex I have ever seen, I pass restaurants, convenience stores, real estate offices, beauty parlors, clothing stores, preschools, repair shops, laundromats,  and a place that teaches fine arts to children, all businesses located on the ground floor of tall buildings. Old gentlemen are sitting outside on small stools playing mahjong and card games on small concrete tables or overturned boxes. Taxis are lined up waiting for customers, their drivers leaning on their cars and smoking cigarettes. I hear a cheerful voice call out, "Hello!" and give a slight wave in the general direction the sound came from, wondering to myself, "How do they know I'm not French or Russian or something?"

I pick up a few Chinese phrases as I walk. Just fragments, really, but more than I used to be able to hear. "Balabalabala...fifteen minutes. We want ice cream! I don't understand why balabalabala .. I am selling balabalabala ... Come over here. Ai-ya, it's really cold!"

My language school is in building 20, through entrance number four. I press 0401 on the door outside, wait for someone to buzz me in and climb four flights of stairs. The door is unmarked and has no handle, only a keyhole.  Martha lets me in and I chat with her for a minute in the bright, airy front room of the school that serves as an office and a classroom for large groups. Book shelves line one wall and hold Chinese language books as well as appealing children's books in English.  Colorful photographs of smiling teachers and students decorate the other walls, and several giant goldfish look at me from their clean, gurgling tank.

Teacher Nan waits for me in our classroom, and after she offers me hot water, we begin our session right away. For an hour and a half she lectures me, quizzes me, scribbles characters on the white board, and asks me to read and make up sentences as I practice my grammar and tones.  She must realize how little I understand. The look in my eyes must reflect the confusion I feel during much of our time together, because her favorite thing to say to me is, "Bie jiao ji. Man man lai."

"Don't worry! Just take your time, and you will make it!"