Ah, big-city livin'. Well, kinda. Guilin is a big city by any of the world's standards, but it sprawls in all directions, and the square mileage and population count can include towns and suburbs that are hours away, so it can be a bit misleading. Regardless, this is the first time I've lived in a city for any extended period of time, and apart from the virtual apartment tour you, valued reader, are about to receive, allow me to share a few other aspects of my daily life, that cannot be easily captured by a camera. First and foremost has to be the construction. There is construction, and the noise that accompanies it, seven days a week, at any hour of the morning or night. They are building a strip mall right outside my apartment complex, beyond the wall on the right side of this photo:
Next are the children: Even with the one-child policy, and the lack of interest or ability of many Guilin(ers?)(ites?) in affording multiple children, there are plenty of the little buggers running around. They're quite often hilarious, and I understand them better than their parents or other adults (probably because their vocabulary is almost as limited as mine). Many of them speak a little English and parents often drag their mortified children towards me and order them to speak English (not unlike a mother of mine insisting that my sister speak Spanish to anyone who could be, is, or has ever known, someone of Hispanic descent). I often just smile and say hello as friendly as possible, and this usually elicits a smile from the child, who realizes that my outside demeanor isn't nearly as off-putting as my country's (zing), and the parent, who is happy their child has had one successful interaction with a foreigner and will now indubitably climb to great heights in either the world of international business or the Chinese Communist Party. Awkward interactions aside, the children are loud, gregarious, and, excuse my french, they generally don't give a shit. They run around and scream and disregard their parents in all the ways I'm familiar with, and some I'm not. Today I saw what was probably a 5 year old girl climb to the very top of her mother's hybrid shopping cart/race car (which, as a child who had to squeeze every bit of fun out of only standing on the front of the cart, would be awesome to begin with) and proceed to berate her mother from her new-found position of power (the high-ground is always a good choice) for minutes on end. Basically, Chinese children are just as obnoxious and just as cute as American children, and can be just as lovable and inspire just as much condom use. I live very close to a kindergarten and get the great pleasure of watching the toddlers do aerobics stand around, drool, and watch their teachers do aerobics, every day. It's great.
This is my building: I live on the top floor on the left side.
Oh and by the way, there's no elevator, so it's a six story hike every time I go in and out:
The front door to my place. From what I could elicit from my roommates the signs are for good luck and to ward away bad spirits although I'm pretty sure the small pink one is to warn the neighbors that a disgusting, barbarous foreigner has just moved in to their building, and tell them that they shouldn't panic.
View from inside the front door. There is nothing upstairs except a mattress that doesn't get used and the hot water heater.
Our Kitchen. Believe it or not they forgot to buy silverware so my roommates and I have had to re-purpose wooden sticks to grab our food with. Huh.
The entertainment area, which never gets used:
Living room/collection of traditional Chinese decorations. Not sure if a naked picture of your infant child counts as traditional or not, but...well....it's there.
Our own personal fountain, also never gets used:
Decorations part deux:
My favorite part of the entire house and quite possibly the greatest photo ever taken by man:
More interesting baby-art:
Our dual shower/squat toilet:
My room, with my saving grace, the AC, figured prominently. Also came equipped with a crib, just in case I decide to adopt (KIDDING MOM).
From the other side:
My Bathroom Area, just as organized as back home:
My personal Jacuzzi tub. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Jason, you rascal, how did you pull that off?" Well, I suppose I got lucky. The only bad news is that it's built for someone half my size and takes an hour and a half to fill with hot water. I use it as a big, fancy toilet paper holder.
My saving grace, the Western Style toilet. 'Nuff said. 'Murica.
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