...and then there was China.: Tigers and Bugs

The Qiu Lao-Hu bit me--and I have yet to recover.

When I first moved to Wuhan, during the blur that is the first few days, I remember someone told me that the weather would be miserably hot, but would slowly get better and better--until the time when "The dead dog bites one last time." It would be about 10 days in September of excruciating heat and humidity--after which Autumn would arrive in its fullness. Summer's last attack.

This year I learned the more common phrase for it: qiu lao-hu, or Autumn Tiger/Tiger Autumn. I thinks it's roughly equivalent to our "dog days of summer" or "Indian Summer."

And it struck with fury this year.

For several days I had forgotten about it. The heat was worse than usual and the humidity left us feeling bedraggled and exhausted and moody. Each day my online weather forecast indicated that it was going to, or was currently, raining. It wasn't. I suppose that with an 88% humidity rating, rain is an easy assumption to make.

And finally Monday came along--Red Monday, I'll call it--when the heat reached 98 degrees F. It began normally enough. I woke up late, threw on clothes and rushed to teach my 8:00 class. My first classroom has air conditioning units--very low powered ones that maybe bring the room temperature down by a few degrees or so--but a/c units nonetheless. I noticed that I wasn't feeling fabulous--but I never do before about 10:30 a.m.

My next class was a brand new class. Postgraduate students don't begin class until the 3rd week of school, so I'd be meeting these students for the first time. I was excited because this was a Masters Advanced English class--the students are all about my age and that would create unique opportunities for discussion. The classroom, however, was a more typical Chinese classroom. One lone fan wobbled high above in the lofty ceilings. The bathrooms--not even equipped with squatty potties but instead with what could most politely be labeled a trough--were nearby and released a foul, fetid odor into the surrounding rooms. By this point the heat of the day was rising and had passed 90 degrees F. And I began to feel a rumbly-tumbly feeling in my belly.

A few days before, all of us Wuhan foreigners had gotten together as we do once a month. And there, lurking in either the food or the fellowship, was the Qiu Lao-hu--in bacterial or parasitic form. It seems to have attacked all of us who were there that day.

15 minutes into class, I was sweating more than I ever have in my life. And I've taken Hot Yoga--so we're talking serious! 30 minutes in, my nalgene bottle was nearly empty and I was getting shaky. The students get a 10 minute break in the middle of class---so I sat down and tried to breathe deeply and pull myself together. It didn't work. When I rose to teach again, I began to see black tunnels forming in the corners of my vision. "Don't pass out in China. Don't pass out in China," I just kept repeating to myself. I ended class early and trudged the longest walk home that I've ever endured. I had to stop and sit down three times along the ways, all the while repeating "Don't pass out in China."

I didn't pass out in China, but I did spend the next several days in bed. Apparently I, and everyone else, got a parasite when we were together, and we've all been sick in the same way to varying degrees. Thankfully, once we realized that it wasn't just going to "work its way out of our system," a good friend who is an RN was able to write out the Chinese name for the meds that we need to take to recover. In the meantime, we've at least been able to have some random moments of shared scatological humor--which does have a rightful place in the world, after all.

The Chinese are nearly militant in their insistence on escorting foreigners to the hospital at the first sign of disease. And at Chinese hospitals, IV drips come standard. It doesn't really matter what is wrong with you--when you get there, you get an IV. So I've spent the week fending off offers to bring me, or urgent suggestions that I should go, to the hospital. So far I've been successful.

In the midst of the parasitic bug creatures (microscopic though they may be) multiplying exponentially within my body and warding off an unneeded hospital visit--the instantaneous shift into Autumn nearly went unnoticed. Last year, I wrote about how it's as if someone flips a switch, and BOOM!, summer disappears. It was the same this year. After the 98 degrees of Monday--Tuesday brought a day of steady wind--and on the wind came Autumn. It was the kind of day that makes you scan the horizon for Mary Poppins and her umbrella.

And the Tiger has flown away. Friday had temperatures in the 60's and today looks about the same. I'm excited that my favorite Chinese season is here--I can't wait to snack on roasted sweet potatoes and candied apples while watching the leaves blow around in the breeze. I have been back in Wuhan for one month now--and I'm beginning to really love it all again. Maybe more than ever.

Pics:

My flip-flop popped!

On the way to class one day--the thong of my flip flop finally gave up the ghost and broke. These flips flops have been with me through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and all over China. I'm so disappointed. I had to walk with one foot barefoot to class--so for the walk home I decided to strap the flop to my foot with tape! This is the taped up rig for the walk home.