I’d had a rough day – more on that in a minute – and wrote
an apologetic note to my flower trip companion for bailing on her, with the
intent to slide it under her door. She’s on floor 17 and I’m on 16, albeit in
different buildings. To get there, I simply cross this bridge thing and then go
up one floor, then find the right apartment. I’ve done it before and it’s
simple enough.
Well, this time, I figured since the elevators are always
busy, why not just walk up a flight of stairs? I mean, how lazy can you be,
right? It’s one flight. We have to use an elevator to go from floor two to one
at work because of construction and it’s a PITA. You have to wait forever for
an elevator, and we only have 4-5 floors at work. My apartment building has
around 30 floors; it’s got to be so much quicker to just go up the one flight,
right?
Well, in theory, sure. Of course, in theory, communism
works. I clicked the thingie to open the door to the stairs and went up a
floor. Waved my card at the red light and it turned green. Confidently, I
pulled the door handle. It didn’t open. I tried several times, with no success,
and then I tried knocking at the door to see if someone heard me. I wasn’t too
far from the apartment of another couple I know, and heard the man’s voice. I
called his name, but he didn’t hear me. Then I heard someone else’s voice and I
called him, too, but I think what I overheard was probably the one guy
welcoming the other guy over for dinner. Either way, I was still stuck. I kept
waving and getting the green light but it didn’t work. Neither did waving my
hands in front of the camera monitor.
I was there for several minutes and no one came to my
rescue, so I figured what the heck, and started down the stairs. I went from
floor 17 to 6 before I found a door that would open. That’s kind of the
lobby-ish floor, where the gym, tea and cookie room, movie theater and the like
are. I figured what the heck and went for some cookies before going up, back to
floor 17, cramming the apology note under the door and going back to my
apartment.
Really, I love my apartment building, but how weird. You’d
think stairs would not be a one-way thing. And the reason I’d written the note
in the first place was that I couldn’t call the room. I tried twice. A
different person I know answered the phone. Of the four digits in her room
number, exactly two are in common with the other. It wasn’t like I punched it
in wrong. I even tried twice, and got her again. I could see in the little
phone readout thing I’d hit the right numbers. I’ve no idea it rang something
like 1386 when I’d dialed 1789.
Sort of icing on the cake for a terrible day. It started out
kind of bad, and I forgot to head it off at the pass. I got up and did the
abbreviated workout routine because I was going to the flower market today. I
had no intentions of buying flowers (although I wound up doing so) and just
wanted to get out and take some pictures.
I met my companion in the lobby and we made the 25-minute walk to another
apartment complex, where the field trips always originate from. There were only
nine of us going on this one, and the trip itself was great. No problems,
although we did learn that to get the best of the fresh-cut flowers, you have
to go first thing in the morning or at 3 p.m. Our trip was around 9:30 to
11:30.
When I woke up, I’d had a slight headache and remember
thinking, “Wow, you should take an Advil so fend that sucker off.” But I
forgot, and wow, that was stupid
Our trip to the market was really nice. It was hot as heck
and muggy as all get-out, but this is Guangzhou.
It happens. I’d also been really dumb (sensing a trend?) in wearing my FSU
baseball jersey. That proved to be a bit toasty too. I was pretty miserable,
but distracted enough by the pretty flowers. My companion and I split some.
The place is a huge, huge market that sells flowers to
florists. Essentially, you buy in bulk. We paid about $10 and split a couple
things. My share came to – wait, let me go count – three dozen purple
roses, dozen of these yellow flowers I
am not sure what are and about 50 – I lost track – of some kind of two-color
carnation. Ten bucks.
They had potted plants, too, which I hadn’t expected. Bamboo
trees, tiny little things, cacti, lotus flowers and all kinds of paraphernalia.
You could have made multiple bouquets with the piles of trash that had been
discarded. Really, had we gotten there “on time,” I think I would have been
overwhelmed.
As it was, I could not believe the mums. There were parade
floats worth of them, in both yellow and white.
Right near when we were headed to leave, we had a sudden
downpour, but the driver came on time and between showers.
“Showers” isn’t the right word. “Deluge” would be more
appropriate. Once we were in the little van, maybe five minutes into a
20-minute drive, the sky opened. It just rained and rained. From the bus, I
could see people on bicycles, and the bottom of their tires were underwater.
Fortunately, my companion and I were going to have lunch
near where the bus stopped – that apartment complex has a TON of food places
nearby – and I’d brought an umbrella. We ran in, called her husband (who was
meeting us, although he ducked into a bank to wait out the storm. Usually you
can do this.) and ordered.
And as soon as I sat down, the migraine came on, fully
loaded. It was pretty awful. I don’t get them often, really, and the last time
I had one that bad was when I wound up christening Karen’s new F-150 in an
unholy way.
So, despite ordering lunch, I did not eat it and just sat in
total, vise-like misery as my companion and her husband ate. I threw back water
– dehydration is a trigger for me – but it was too late. I would have liked to
have left, but unfortunately, the deluge continued. (Husband had left his place
of refuge between downpours but arrived in the middle of another.) I was
coherent but decided after eating the broccoli that came with my dish that I
would save the rest for later and not risk it.
We thought we might catch a cab on the way out but, as many
apartments and restaurants in the complex, there just aren’t cabs. So we walked
– quickly – back, with me just concentrating on not tossing my cookies. Or
broccoli.
Husband slid into the metro station halfway there, but at
that point we were halfway anyway, so Companion and I kept walking. I didn’t
think I needed to endanger people anyway; I really thought I was going to puke.
We got to the park thing that I have to cross and it was really like a river.
The water was about ankle deep. At that point, I could see my building. I’d
stopped near a trash can, thinking I’d have to use it, and Companion, who was a
bit behind me, thought I was contemplating where to cross. She went down
further and I said I had to cross there and get home, so I just completely
bailed. (Hence the apology, although I know she understood.) I just dived right
in and across.
Fortunately, I made it home, popped an Excedrin migraine,
shed the soaking wet clothes and took a short nap. I’m not entirely sure what
time I got back, but at 4:30 I felt like a human again.
At that point, I had another one of those excursions that
make you want to roll your eyes. Everything is hard, you know? I went to pick
up my glasses and had a really, really rough time determining which store I’d
gotten them from. They all look alike, and the receipts were all written in
Chinese. I’d go into one store and show them both receipts and they’d point me
one way, and a store in that direction would point me in another.
Fortunately, everyone’s friendly and I did get both pairs
with minimal trouble, although it’s just enough to make you shake your head. I
even got one of the receipts stamped to where I can get my VAT back. The other
guy told me to come back in 3-4 days to pick it up, and I think that I will.
(It’s probably $5 or so.) I tried that
pair on again when I got home and it fits a little weird, so I’ll ask him to
size it a little better, too. I’m totally happy with them, though.
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