Jinan

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Taking the bus in China is inexpensive. That is all that can be said in its favour. On my first experience, while canned in for twenty minutes, I witnessed a teenage girl and 40-something man wrestle for a newly available seat. The girl, who had been standing closest to the coveted seat, won but as she was about to take her place, she noticed an old man standing behind the 40-something man. She indicated for him to have the seat instead but as she moved aside and he stepped forward, the fly 40-something man ruthlessly jumped into the seat.

This was to provide a significant learning experience of China. No one appears to recognise your right to a place, be it in a queue or when legitimately crossing the road. And this is regardless of my 'alien' status, widespread disrespect is universal here. People cut in line; motorbikes drive on pedestrian pavement, men spit all the time and everywhere; men smoke all the time and everywhere; buses take sharp corners and steam through green pedestrian crossings; marginally politer - taxis take sharp corners and blast horns through green pedestrian crossings; people openly stare at foreigners; and people openly photograph foreigners.

Going back to my first trip on a bus, I eventually managed to secure myself a seat and sat down feeling rather pleased with myself only to find that everyone then disembarked at what was the final terminal. I sheepishly slid off the seat and exited the bus too.

It is difficult to know where to begin when describing Jinan. Compared with the more modern and Western Shanghai, Jinan is much poorer and very Chinese. Yesterday I walked down the street passed various street-sellers. I heard the cheep-cheep of chicks but at first glance thought they were toys. Instead of their natural blond and golden colour, this basket of chicks had been dyed fluorescent pink, green and orange. I just stared in pity at the innocent little creatures.

Adapting to life here is overwhelming and a definite culture shock. Right now in this internet cafe I'm choking on heavy cigarette smoke mingled with the scent of male urine. The 2007 Chinese New Year may be on its way out, but fireworks still thunder day and night. And they're not attractive displays with whizzing and bright, colourful lights. They're just the bangs of firecrackers, some sound like canons. This morning they woke me up before 8am.

Laundry:
To wash my clothes I use an old-fashioned, manual washing machine which has a separate washer and spinner compartments. I load my clothes into the washer, dust them with washing powder, fill the compartment with cold water using an attached hose, at which point I supplement this with a basin or two of hot water I fill from the shower, then they wash for 15 minutes, then I drain the soapy water and wash them again with only water. I then load them into the spinner to wring out and then hang them up to air dry.

Bed-time:
No central heating means I sleep with pjs tucked into slipper-socks, a thick Bench fleece zipped up to my nose with the hood up, gloves and I lie my coat over the quilt. Every night I wake up shivering. Another new teacher had wondered why she woke up with stiff fingers. I explained that like me, she must be balling them up into fists in her sleep because of the cold.

Anyway, all in all, not one of the hardest places I've lived in.

More later, Clare x

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