Wet wet wet

Its been raining for ever. Well, at least for the last four days - without even a pause.

Last year we tried to get used to the idea that winter in China - besides being at the "wrong" time of year from our point of view - was dry, whereas summer was wet. And in Zhengzhou winter was very cold and very dry. Even the snow felt dry, like fine sand, impossible to make any kind of snowball.

But right here right now it is winter and it is thoroughly wet. On my day off I stayed in the apartment all day, there really wasn't any point in going out.

The schools seem to have mostly closed for the Spring break, and the streeets are full of people jostling their way around puddles and between cars and bikes, and poking each other with umbrella points. New Year is just over a week away, and everyone is frantically buying up armloads of big colourful boxes and gift-bags full of specially-displayed treats to give to and share with friends and rellies at New Year.

It's really cold as well as wet. Everyone is bundled up in thick padded coats, little kids wearing so many layers they look like stranded starfish on a beach, hardly able to move their limbs. In Zhengzhou many buildings had thick padded blankets to push past in their doorways at this time of year. Here they mostly just have heavy duty wide thick plastic strips that flop back and give you an almighty "thwack!" if you are not careful when following someone else through a doorway.

The wind has got in on the act too. The icy blast swirls around buildings and down alleys, giving no clue as to which way it will push you and your umbrella next. Every now and then it seems to blow directly up from the pavement threatening to fill the skies with myriads of Chinese Mary Poppinses each clinging defiantly to their umbrella handle.

New Year is an excellent excuse to let off lots of fireworks, a pastime the Chinese seem to be particularly fond of. And obviously there is a need for plenty of practise beforehand, because already they can be heard all over the city at irregular intervals day and night. Unfortunately the rain has put a bit of a dampener on this activity too. Not to be beaten, the people who live below us in our building decided the stairwell was a good place to let some off. Several times we heard the door creak open, some scuffling sounds then a hurried creak and door-slam, and immediately the stairwell was full of loud sound and acrid smoke.

So yesterday I had to finally leave the apartment and go to work. Obviously a twenty minute walk through the rain and wind would be neither pleasant nor sensible. But a taxi-ride seemed extravagant as the buses were running. I didn't relish the possibility of a long wait for the infrequent number 40 bus that goes from outside our apartment front gates to our office front door. So I decided I would go just around the corner and catch the old beaten-up but more frequent number 3.

As I stepped out of the shelter of the Kang Xing Yuan entrance arch I almost regretted my decision at once. But I bravely dodged a few puddles and avoided some umbrella prods, safely reaching the roadway. I waited for a car to pass, then gripping my little blue umbrella down over my shoulders I headed out to the middle line. I chose my spot carefully so the cars coming the other way wouldn't hit any puddles as they swished past me.

The wind noticed me, and came roaring down Jiang Kang Lu and up under my feeble umbrella, flipping it inside out and reducing it to a tangled mess of wire and plastic in my cold wet hands. Safely across the road I stood dripping on the pavement and considered whether to chuck the battered remnants of my umbrella into the gutter and run (haha! yes, right!) to the bus stop. However, after a few moments I discovered that once I had untangled the wires a little the whole thing was quite happy to resume its normal umbrella shape and once again offer me some protection from the continuing drizzley rain. So I went on round the corner where I found that the bus shelter was crowded with elderly Chinese folk and I had to wait in the rain alongside some neat petite Chinese girls with their tidy, well-behaved umbrellas. The fact that there were so many people waiting was an encouragement - at least I hadn't just missed a bus, one should be along very soon.

Getting off the number 3 I still had a bit of a trudge through the blustery wet streets to our office, and I arrived with wet feet, trousers splashed up to the knees and (unbeknownst to me) the bottom half of my jacket at the back soaked due to the inadequacy of my umbrella. I readied my teaching materials and then had to sit and wait a while for the taxi (which had got stuck in the more congested than usual traffic) to take me to the factory 45 minutes away where I would teach.

By the time I got out of the taxi the wetness of my jacket had seeped into my other clothes, leaving me with a embarassingly wet backside. Well, I just had to make sure I didn't turn my back on the class.