It all started with fixing the TV. As it turned out, it was never broken, I just needed to plug it in. Plugging in is usually helpful when you try to make something electrical work.

There is only one English channel, CCTV News. They are quite Africa/USA/China- centric and approved by Chinese censorship, but better this than nothing. The TV informed me that the typhoon was going to hit Zhejiang the next day.

The problem was I had already made plans to visit Cixi, where I lived last year, to say goodbye to Lois, who was going home after finishing her contract. Promise is a promise, I was really annoyed with this typhoon getting in my way. I decided to go anyway, everybody was assuring me that typhoons are normal, buses are the last thing to stop.

So, I did go. When I was leaving the house on Sunday morning, the wind was blowing hard, it was dark and gloomy, like it tends to be before a storm, but this time it lasted for the whole day. Scared as I was, I still took a bus to Cixi.

The rain started during the party. It wasn’t rain, it was RAIN. I immediately started to panic that I wouldn’t be able to get to class on time the following day. Not that something would happen to me on the way, no, just that I will be late for work. I’m such an amazing employee.

The typhoon couldn’t stop me from going out to eat either. My friend Hayley had to take me to a small shop to have some dumplings in the middle of the storm. I’m very sorry, when I’m hungry, I’m hungry. Nutrition comes before safety.

Luckily, I’m a sound sleeper and I didn’t hear the typhoon that hit at night. Had I heard it, I would have been to scared to be able to sleep at all. I woke up at 6 am, which is the middle of the night actually, and started freaking out that I surely there were no buses to Ningbo. I ran to the street and got wet immediately because there was no point in opening the umbrella, the wind was just too hard.

The buses were running and people were travelling, since it was the end of the National Holiday and they were still returning home. Therefore, one might say I wasn’t so crazy to travel after all.

It was raining heavily, but I’ve seen worse rains in Poland and especially Spain, so it didn’t look dangerous to me. I felt relieved. How little did I know of what was awaiting me.

I was convinced that when I reach Ningbo, I will be almost home and the adventure would be over. Meanwhile, it turned out to be only the beginning.

The station was packed with people who were, like me, on their way home from holidays or students on their way to Monday classes. I waited fourty five minutes for the bus to arrive. I don’t know how I gathered the patience, I was just standing there and reading a Mario Vargas Llosa novel, not even one of the most captivating ones. Hailing a taxi wouldn’t be a better idea, the line was huge and few of them were coming.

Finally, the bus arrived and the driver was shouting something in dialect. I asked him in Mandarin if he goes to my university, but he said he didn’t understand me and laughed. I shouted at him that I’m speaking Chinese, how dare he not understand (so perhaps I wasn’t so calm after all). I found a seat next to a girl, who selfishly didn’t want to sit next to the window and I had to squeeze in there with all my luggage. I hope I kicked her hard on my way there.

We set off from the station into the streets and it it soon became clear that the area around is flooded. People were wading in water to their knees, with shoes their in hands. Parked cars were ruined. The bus was going through the water and splashing it all around. Suddenly, it met some obstacle underwater and stopped abruptly, throwing people and bags against the front window. They reacted in a very Chinese way, that is, nobody complained. They just checked if everybody is fine and started to laugh. In China nobody minds reckless driving, even if buses nearly crush with each other, unless somebody is killed. I’ve never seen bus drivers that careless. In Poland I would be so anxious about travelling around in such conditions, but I adapted amazingly well to the circumstances and I don’t mind along with the rest of the Chinese people. Until I get killed.

The bus driver opened the door and refused to go any further. In the distance, I recognized one of the sky-scrapers of the Tienyi Square, the main city square. I went there and waited for a long time for another bus, while it started to rain again. When it finally arrived, everybody was pushing the others to get in, especially the old ladies. I will never match the Chinese old ladies in art of pushing others, it’s amazing how strong and determined they are to be first. I’m pretty sure that if it was legal, they would stab others in order to get on the bus before them. As long as murder is illegal, they continue to shove you with their elbows and to fix their stare fanatically at the doorway they want to get into.

Completely soaked and miserable by that time, I arrived at the campus. I even had time to go home, change and cycle quickly back. It wasn’t raining, so I was sure it was over. I was very proud of myself.

The building was completely flooded. I think students forgot to close the windows or did it on purpose, as it was humid. Sacks of sand were lying everywhere and students were wearing flip flops and wading through water. We did the class in wet classroom and it started to rain again some ten minutes before the end. This time hard.

I waited for some time and read my book, but then I thought that, first of all, it was not stopping, and, secondly, the way between my house and my apartment door takes me ten minutes, so how long am I exposed to the rain, five minutes perhaps?

It wasn’t even like standing under the shower. It was like standing under a waterfall. I had my waterproof super- expensive jacket on and it didn’t stop me from getting soaked to my bra. The water on the street got so deep that I was cycling in the water up to the chain.

When I got home and changed, I thought again that it was over. The following morning it was still raining, but it was a normal rain, the jacket protected me a little, I changed clothes before class and it was ok. I was convinced that everything was coming back to normal.

The problem was, it was still raining.

On Tuesday evening I was sitting quietly in my apartment and suddenly I realized I’m sitting in the dark. Soon after it the water went. Luckily, one colleague shared his candles. Before he kindly did so, I was using my mobile to shed light on my kindle. Pretty miserable evening. I went to bed at 9, scared and dirty.

But surely, they repaired it the next day? No, they didn’t. For five days. They kindly moved us to a hotel though. Walking down fifteen floors to get there (no elevator during the power cut) wasn’t fun. Walking those fifteen floors up the next day to change shoes because it unexpectedly got boiling hot wasn’t fun either.

My friends Jiejie and Joery don’t remember such a catastrophe in their lifetimes and they are my age. Joery lives close to Yuyao and she didn’t have running water for five days. Yuyao suffered the most actually, people were wading in water up to their waists. I’ve also seen (on CCTV) the images of Wenzhou. Some people died there due to bad wiring, which was leaking electricity to the water. They died as soon as they touched the water. It makes me so angry, nobody cares about the safety, until people die, just like with the reckless driving.

Now we’ve returned home. You only appreciate home after a typhoon, when it’s taken away from you.

Ania
10/15/2013 02:23:05 am

Julia - 1, typhoon - 0

Reply
Julia
10/15/2013 03:11:48 pm

typhoon- 1, hard-drive- 0
unless I find the way to fix it!

Reply
Julia
10/16/2013 01:04:40 pm

typhoon-0, hard-drive-1
I've just fixed it.

Reply
Ania
10/20/2013 02:15:12 am

suck it, stupid typhoon!

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