Reprieve

China kicked me out. She threw my clothes out on the front lawn of the apartment complex. My laundry fell from eight floors up before it hit the ground. She knows I never wanted the relationship in the first place, but now my poor students are stuck in the middle of a messy split. So, instead of calling it quits for good, it is just a brief separation.

This has been the longest Saturday of my life. On Friday, I registered residency – again – this time with the Bin Jiang District police station, then took a twenty-minute taxi ride back to Xiaoshan’s immigration office to see if I could renew my tourist visa one more time. When I arrived, they told me I had to have a Chinese bank account. I asked the duty officer why. His response was, “I don’t know. It is just policy.” Way to be a robot, dude.

Not only did I need a Chinese bank account (for a tourist???), but I also needed to apply for the renewal in my own district. So, back to Bin Jiang, only to discover that the immigration office closed at 5:00 pm and not 5:30. We arrived at 5:09 to find the office lobby dark and the doors locked up. I bet they didn’t even wait until 5:01 to close. China, man. She’s got a schedule.

So, with my visa expiration approaching within twenty-four hours, I had no choice but to leave the country. Originally, the plan was to fly to Korea, where I would stay with my boss and she would arrange for a business visa. However, you cannot make plans in China. There is no future – only a now. I was later informed that it would not be possible to get a visa in Korea, or any other country besides the U.S. It has something to do with third countries and being an American and Communist bull that I don’t understand. Blah blah blah.

The next morning, I made quick arrangements for a flight from Shanghai to Denver via Chicago. In order to get to Shanghai in time for my flight, the train was out of the question, since it wasn’t guaranteed that there would be seats available. Instead, I hired an illegal taxi to take me straight to Pudong airport.

It took three and a half hours to drive to Shanghai. It consisted of mostly silence, save for two short conversations in broken Chinese about bus exhaust and bridge construction. My flight to Chicago lasted fourteen hours, with a two-hour layover that just barely gave me time to get through customs. The customs officer was surprisingly pleasant – and cute. Finally, I boarded my flight to Denver and passed out in a fetal position the second I found my seat: the last seat of the last row on the plane. It was a two-and-a-half hour flight to Denver, and a two hour drive to Laramie, where I am now safely and comfortable going to fall asleep for the next day or two.

Monday I will send in my application for a new visa. Hopefully it will take a very long time. I’m enjoying English conversation and clean mountain air.