The last two weeks have been rather low-key. Dull, in fact. The weather’s been non-cooperative. Lots of overcast days with bouts of rain, coupled with oppressive humidity, have been causing our old enemy — mold — to reappear in our apartment and in the hallways of our building.
Our water was shut off for three days. Once last week and twice this week. A minor annoyance, but one that can be dealt with. Just like the mold, or so I tell myself.
So, really, I don’t have much to share with you now. And I don’t want to blabber about our currently non-eventful lives. Living in China is just like living anywhere else. There are good days and bad days. There are boring ones and annoying ones.
On the not-so-thrilling days, I try to remind myself that there’s a lot of not-so-common things to observe and wonder about.
Locals could probably care less about another concrete fishing hut on the shores of the Yellow Sea. But I’m not a local and a lop-sided, lonely, seemingly abandoned hut intrigued me on an evening bike ride Iggy and I took this week.
I recently read somewhere that in China one should feel free to go anywhere they want to go. The Chinese don’t think about land the way Americans do. Apparently, I don’t have to worry about public vs. private property. I guess I’ll have to shelve my million-dollar idea for Chinese versions of “beware of dog” or “never mind the dog, beware of owner” warning signs.
I’m glad I read this because, whether true or not, I’m using this tidbit as permission — my right to roam — to do things I wouldn’t do back home. Like creep up on and around this hut to snap a few photos.
I took the holes in the door’s screen as another invitation to get up close and personal with this place, which clearly doesn’t look inhabited from this viewpoint. Yet, it was. As you can see below, it’s equipped with a kitchen. A wall divided the hut into two rooms. The other room served as a bedroom, which I couldn’t get a picture of unfortunately. The “bed” (slab of concrete) was neatly made and there were personal effects on a side table, including a pack of cigarettes. Does anyone not smoke in China?
The hut was situated on a hill just above the sea, a few miles away from the nuclear power plant, which, in case you didn’t know, is the reason why we are here.On either side were seawater ponds, presumably full of fish that gets sold to the many seafood restaurants in our area, though the monster algae has killed my craving for “fresh” fish these days.
Given that we didn’t know when the owners of the fishing hut would be coming back, we decided to get back on our bikes and head home. We made a quick pit-stop on the way so I could catch the guys below fold up a fishing net. This gave them a chance to practice saying “huhlow” and Iggy a chance to answer their question about where we were from.