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Scroll down to Sept. 9th's entry to read of another one of my adventures -- I started writing it on Sept. 9th (took awhile). Enjoy! And there's more to come soon!

Love you all!
Julie

Seared Skin

So I'm working on writing more-- one of my many goals this year. It's very easy to fall into the evil grip of "Chinglish" over here. My speaking ability has been reduced to that of a child at times. So often I pause because I simply forget the vocabulary necessary to complete my thought. There was one instance where I used the word "gelatilized" (and thought it was correct) to describe something that had transformed to the consistency of Jell-o. So here I am making an attempt to retain what is left of my English. The story for today: how I charred my flesh.
. . .
Sunday, Sept. 21st
I often ride a motochi (motorcycle taxi) to get across Beibei. The following story happened the morning the SPUBA (SPU Business Abroad) group arrived. In fact, I was on my way to the airport...
. . .
I was hired by SPU to be the go-to person for the students studying abroad. Part of my contract includes meeting them at the airport, simple enough, so I took a motochi to the far side of the campus where I was to meet the bus. Cruising down Tiansheng Lu (the main road that runs along campus) with the wind in my hair and the last little bits of red and orange light tinting the city before disappearing with the rising sun. The day was beautiful and I couldn't wait to see my friends who I'd been waiting for for weeks.
. . .
I told the driver to stop at the 3rd gate...also known as the 5th gate. Last year it was the 3rd gate, and for some incredibly valid and logical reason (I'm sure) they renamed the 3rd gate the 5th gate and transferred the name of the 3rd gate to this small, mysterious gate in the middle of campus, which we still refer to as "the mystery gate". We will accept the risk of being "un-harmonious".
. . .
We pulled up to the 5th gate. The motochi came to a halt and the driver leaned the bike to the left. The curb was to the right. With my right leg unsteadily balancing me, I swung my left leg over the seat. (I'm always working towards efficiency.) With my leg mid-air, I began to feel this rapidly increasing heat on my right calf. It took me a few moments to notice that I searing the flesh off my leg. I can't remember if I screamed out loud or just heard a deafening yell resound within my skull. Either way, I paid the taxi driver quickly before the pain could mature further. I looked down only to see a patch of skin, with an area of roughly 2 sq. inches (I <3 style="font-style: italic;">shui attached to my leg (my best imitation of Igor accomplished without even trying), I fumbled for my money. 10 kuai down on the table. I knew the price: 1 kuai. My change...8 kuai. What?! The pain in my leg came out in a fiery glare. He got my message. Math is universal, Buddy. Don't even think of messing with me right now. With his head turned downwards he slid another kuai on the table. His head remained lowered until I began to walk out -- who could resist looking and laughing at the awkwardly walking, injured foreigner?
. . .
On the ride to the airport I depleted the thermal energy from my cold water and a soda -- my leg still on fire. Obtained some "burn cream" (or at least that what my friend Allen [our translator] told me) and the pain subsided just in time to greet the 32 students. My leg continued to seep puss for a week.
. . .
The Second Trip to the Doctor
...because once isn't enough
My friend Thug took me to the hospital on campus and was translator for this visit. We walked in and I felt instantly transported to the 1950's. Linoleum floors, yellow tiles going halfway up the walls, the doctor sitting in his white coat at a old style light brown wooden desk, the smell of iodine floating in the air...
. . .
Thug relayed the story of what happened and we proceeded into another room. Here there were two tables: one looked as if it could be used for giving birth and the other being for, perhaps, operations or examinations. The rusty, yellow-metal beds with hand cranks to adjust the height revealed their...longevity. I sat down in a chair and propped my leg up on a Y-shaped stand. As I was pondering the origin of the dark, red-brown stains that concealed the yellow color of this stand, the doctor raised a pair of tongs and removed something from a blue metal container that was of the same color as the stains. Meat?! Chicken kidney?! Liver pieces?! Leeches?!! I couldn't tell what it was but I thought I was going to faint as soon as he touched it to my skin. I quickly realized that it was only an iodine-soaked cotton ball -- it's amazing I didn't think of that 1st. ...or 2nd...or 3rd...or even 4th... But the price was just right: under $10 (without the usage of insurance) for the visit and some antibiotics to fight the infection.
. . .
It took nearly a month, but my leg healed well.