Author: hulda98

Chinese SAGAS – My new job in Quanzhou – part 3

Continued

I had found the school, had a meeting with the dignitaries and now I was in the dormitory that would be my home for some time and at least the next 4 months.

We entered the apartment and the disgusting dirt was everywhere. I told Ana I would not go to bed in this horror.

Ana was the lady who took care of the foreign teachers, along with another nice lady. They were supposed to make sure the foreigners had everything they needed but also that they did behave according to the tradition. Of course there are rules!

So, I unwrapped the quilts, there were 2 in the apartment, and that was my contribution to cleaning the disgusting situation.

Ana called the cleaners. I was invited into the next door apartment. The hostess and the children took the foreigner under their wings and made tea. More people arrived, the dignitaries and the cleaner’s boss and I can’t name all the others. A lot of people and a lot of discussion. Talking and discussing and trying to find a solution was not an easy task. Back and forth they went and for a long time. Eventually, the conclusion was: Take the teacher to a hotel. She could sleep there during the first night and the apartment could be cleaned. I accepted and the cleaners had already begun and did a fine job. I could rest assure they would clean properly.

We left the suitcases on the bed. We took the sheets to a dry cleaner in the neighbourhood. Were they really not going to wash them? I asked Anna, and she tried to convince me that they would be washed with soap and water!

I was not quite sure, but nothing I could do.

After the dry cleaner the next task was to find a hotel. Where would I like to stay? How could I know that? This was my first time in Quanzhou and I did not know anything about the city. Would it be ok for me to stay in a 4 star hotel? I did not mind, it could not be worse than the apartment and 4 star hotels are often very good in China, like the Best Western in Fuzhou which had been my home for weeks when I arrived many years ago. So 4 stars were fine with me and I would have felt bad if the school had to pay a lot for my night in an expensive hotel.

We had a wonderful dinner, me and the dignitaries, and finally I got to bed at half past ten, totally exhausted, on a mattress like a rock, but they are like this here in China and I have been told that it’s good for the body, mostly for those who are old. Hm, mattresses like a rock for the old ones, for the bodies that suffer from pain here and there all the time? I don´t quite agree.

I decided that next time I went to Min Hou I would take with me to Quanzou every spare quilt and blanket I had in my house because the mattress in the apartment in the dorm was also like a rock.

After sleeping on the rock I went downstairs in the morning and to the lobby, asked for a map of the city. Usually hotels do have maps of the cities for their customers and of course I thought that in Quanzhou, which is quite a rich city, there would be maps for the guests. The ladies in the reception did not quite understand what or why I needed what I was asking for. Beside me, in the lobby, stood a lady, she was resourceful. She called someone and asked me to wait. After a while a man came. Perhaps a senior citizen and he turned out to be the lady’s father. He was a retired teacher and a geologist, traveling with his family to China. He managed to explain to the receptionists what a map was. No, no maps in this hotel, but they told him there was a kiosk in the neighbourhood and there I could get a map.

Easy!

Can you imagine me going to the kiosk, maybe finding it, and finding my way back to the hotel?

There was no way I would do this. The kiosk could have their maps but not me wandering about the city.

I was hungry and it was time for breakfast. No one there, except me. Perhaps not too many guests staying at the hotel and the poor staff panicking over the foreigner, worried about what she would eat. Of course they knew about the odd request about the map. They did not know that I loved Chinese food and had been in the country for a while!

When finishing my breakfast and leaving the dining room, the teacher came to me. He asked if I was alone and I told him yes. He told me he had sent his friend to the kiosk to buy a map for me to make sure I would not get lost. Isn’t this the sweetest thing you can imagine? There was a tourist helping a lone woman and making sure she would find her way in the new city.

I got the map and was in seventh heaven waiting for Ana to pick me up. I would not get lost with her as a guide. She came at about 11 o’clock and we took a walk to the apartment that was still being cleaned. The night before I had left my car at the dormitory.

I found a supermarket and we went into 2 hairdressers and asked if they could cut my hair. You know, my hear is not Chinese. Chinese hair is thick and a lot of it. Mine is fine and not very thick, just like an angel’s hair. My hairdressers in Fuzhou were always afraid they would make me bold, although I had found some who were brave enough but now they had closed and my hair really needed a cut. The city was hot and humid and my head gets hot and humid. I could not have water running down my face when in the classroom. Haircut it was!

I could get a haircut. Not a problem. The price was 480 RMB which is a robbery. I said thank you but no thank you, the price was far too high. The lads explained to me that this was a big hair salon and of course expensive.   They really tried to convince me that they were the best and showed me the luxury in the saloon. I just needed a haircut. I did not care if the saloon was small, as long as I could get the service I wanted and the service depends on the people, not the chairs, or so I thought. We found another one and the price was just 200 RMB. In Fuzhou I got haircut and colour for 80 RMB. Of course it would be more convenient for me to have a pampering here because during weekends there was not much time. Eventually I did give in and paid 200 RMB, but that was later. We continued our walk to the apartment and came across a shop selling contact lenses. There I found the same brand I had been using in Iceland. I had been looking for a long time for this brand and here it was just in front of me. Wonderful!

We arrived at the apartment and the cleaners had done a fine job, not finished yet but the air was foul and I opened all the windows to get some fresh in. They looked at me! Ana looked at me! Why are you opening the windows? they asked. To get the fresh air, it smells foul here, I explained. Could they not see this made sense, we open windows to get the air in? I did not understand what was wrong with them. Humouring me Ana and I left and the windows open.

We came back at 4 in the afternoon and everything clean, or so to speak. Maybe a bit in a corner here and there, but they were wonderful and did the job as well as possible. The floors were a bit wet but I could take care of that. Of course an apartment in this condition could not be perfect just in 2 days, it takes a long time and I was not complaining.

Although I could not understand why the floors kept getting wet, no matter how much I dried them. Where did all this water come from? The neighbour came by and I asked her why this was happening to me? Now I had been mopping the water for almost an hour and there was no end to it!

She looked at me.

She looked at the windows.

She looked again, at me.

You have to close the windows, why did they open the windows?

I explained they had not, I had.

Oh, you cannot open the windows there is so much humidity outside and that is why you are mopping the same spot again, you turn around and it is wet again, she told me.

We closed the windows and I managed after some hours to get my floors dry. The beginners’ problems!

I had clean bed sheets, not dry cleaned and went to bed. The bed was broken.

A man came to fix it some days later. The next day someone came to change the water machine which was also broken. We had to filter the water. Eventually I got something to cook my food on. It was impossible not to have a cooker; I needed to cook my herbs every day. They were my medicine.

There was a computer in the apartment but the disk totally packed and the computer slower than the devil. I was going to use my own. I connected the cable to mine but nothing worked. No password. I connected to the other computer again and did it wrong. Had to get a man to fix it. He loosened the screws at the back of the computer, took the back away and managed to get the cable free. How could this happen? How could I connect a simple cable to a computer in a wrong whole and the back needed to be screwed away?

Maybe it would be easier just to buy another cable for my computer in the future. Then I would not have to crawl like a worm under the table to get the other one out. The one from the school computer that needed to be used for both the computers, I thought. I hated to use the keyboard which the man had used, the one who left because he was sick and had to stop teaching and was now teaching in Fuzhou! The one who left the apartment like a filthy testimony about his tidiness. By the way, there was a lot of bear in the apartment, which the former inhabitant left behind and even proper glasses but plates and other cutlery was limited.

The apartment was now clean, the computer was working, my computer, and it was time to go to the school and have another meeting with the dignitaries about my contract. No problems there and I would start my work very soon! Or so I assumed.

To be continued/

Hulda Björnsdóttir

Chinese SAGAS – my new job in Quanzhou  – part 2

I am famous for getting lost. Not just in China. Even in Iceland, which is not a huge country, I got lost all the time. When in London I took the wrong turns again and again, but the advantage is that getting lost you discover places you would not have dreamed of.

Yesterday I had managed, eventually, with the help of nice people and my guide, to find Quanzhou. I had also accomplished the impossible, to find my way home, back home and it was dark. I drove fast, got a fine, you cannot drive through the motorway in China at 132 km per hour or more, and not be fined, but that was ok. At least I was again in Min Hou.

The next day I left Min Hou at 12 in the afternoon and headed for Quanzhou. I knew how to get there, Oh, yes had been there just some hours before, no problem, it was all clear in my head.

The morning had been a packing and an organising morning. I like to organise but to be able managing that properly you need time. I did not have time. I had only few hours. I packed and unpacked. Suitcases and bags got full and empty again. Contemplated, and figured out that this was easy because I was traveling by my car. I packed food and food processor. My soy milk machine did also travel with me. Linen and towels would definitely be included in the apartment the school provided. Yes for sure they would be there, no need to pack them in bags. Of course I would not need buckets and floor equipment, but some small rags were nice, I like having my own. And in they went. Of course some clothes were also needed but maybe I could find a seamstress who could make some summer dresses for me. The heat was coming and it would be quite hot and humid in my new job. I was sure there would be someone in Quanzhou who could make something. I was too tall to get anything proper in the shops, and the last time I tried, my wallet, with all my papers and everything, was stolen. I lost my money and got no dresses big enough for the middle school where I was starting a new life, far from my home in Min Hou.

Well, I arrived to Quanzhou, managed to take the right turn from the motorway and I knew I was supposed to drive straight ahead for a long time and the turn to the right, somewhere, but had totally forgotten where. I stopped, close to a shop.

Calling the school, I had got a number yesterday I could use in emergency, and asking them for help was my only option.

The wonderful lady told me she would be with me within half an hour. I found a really nice lady inside the shop, who explained to the school lady where I was and she even told her where to get off the buss and how to cross over and she would easily find me. The shopkeeper was wonderful.

I waited, outside my car, trying to stretch my tired long legs and I received a lot of attention. A lot. There was a young couple watching me for about 20 minutes and of course the wonderful bike taxi drivers. There they sat on their bikes watching the foreigner, wondering if they should offer a lift. No, she was standing next to a car, which seemed to be hers, so no approach from them. Just a bit of a discussion and curiosity.

Usually, when I go to the supermarket in Min Hou, there are those bike taxi drivers, eager to get me on when I come from the supermarket, loaded with bags. Most of them know by now who I am and they have accepted I drive my own car, but when the newcomers are trying, everyone is having a blast and they explain to the new ones that the lady has a car. They all greet me and of course they know me after years of seeing the foreigner. I know these bike drivers are illegal but they seem to be left alone, and in fact they are just having a conversation sitting on their bikes, isn’t it.

The woman from the school arrived eventually. She explained, under her yellow umbrella, how she had taken the wrong bus and got lost. Hm, it was not just me. We drove straight to the school and met all the dignitaries there. The headmaster, the assistant headmaster, the department head and many others. Everyone was friendly and curious about the strange tall lady who wanted to live in their country.

They told me in many words, how welcome I was to the school and I was happy about it all. They asked how long I would be in the country and I explained that this was my final destination. Would I be willing to work for them? They asked me. I told them I was 65 and if they would hire me I would be willing. So far so good.

After a long meeting I was finally going to see my new apartment. The woman who picked me up took me there. I was looking forward to lie down and rest my tired bones after 2 days traveling on the motorway and driving more than necessary, just because I could not find my way.

We took 3 suitcases with us; the apartment was on the 1^st floor, which was of course great. Just imagine if it had been on the 8^th floor. I would definitely have died on my way up and you would not be reading this. Before me the inhabitant had been a man. I am not sure where from, although he may have been from Australia, a bachelor. This wonderful man left the school in the midterm and told them he was sick and could not continue. He was spotted teaching in Fuzhou ! The poor man had not realised that if one Chinese knows something, they all know.

I was knocked down when I saw the apartment. I could vividly see in my mind many days of hard work scrubbing. The fridge was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. I told Anna, the lady who was with me, the one who picked me up, that I would not go to bed in this horror. The more we investigated the more obvious it was that the apartment needed cleaning from top to toe.

/to be continued

Hulda Björnsdóttir

I was teaching in a university in Min Hou but one day there was no more job for me and I had to find something else to do.

I had worked like a maniac, almost 50 hours per week plus the time it took traveling to and from the school. I was dead tired. In the evening I went to the English corners in the neighbour hood universities. That was kind of my contribution to the community and I loved it. Meeting students from other schools was interesting and educating for me as well.

Now my place was nowhere. What could I do? I needed work. Friends of mine, foreigners, had information from a friend who told them about some company in Beijing that hired foreign teachers and it did not matter if they were over 30. I contacted the company and 2 days later I had a contract, a signed one, and was supposed to teach in Jinjiang which is a county-level city of Quanzhou City, Fujian Province, China. It is located in the south eastern part of the province, on the right or south bank of the Jin River, across from Quanzhou’s urban district of Fengze.

Since I had a signed contract all my worries vanished, or so I thought. Now I could begin preparing for the spring festival.

Although there was one thing I found confusing. Why could I not get the name of the school I was supposed to work in? I wanted to gather information on how to get there so the name was very important. After many e-mails I was told that I would get the name just before I began teaching because the company could not risk that another company would interfere in our contract. Maybe another one would offer me better salary? I don´t know what they were afraid of.

Now, the Spring Festival was there and everything went quiet. That is what happens during the holidays in China. Everyone goes to their hometowns and nothing happens until 10 days after the Spring Festival. This year the festival was 14th of February and I was worried. I was supposed to start my new job 1. of Mars and should be in the school 2 days before the semester. Not quite according to my books, I have to make arrangements long before everything, to organize.

I tried to contact the lady who made my contract. She was not on Skype during this period, she did not reply to my e-mails. I was getting really worried and a bit furious as well. So, I sent a very frustrated e-mail to the lady and told her I was beginning to think I had signed a contract with a phony company. An e-mail came back. She was on holiday and would be back the 22nd of February. I can’t say this made me at ease, but at least there was a sign that the company had not died.

23rd of February the lady called.  She asked if I did mind going to Quanzhou instead of Jinjiang? I told her I did not mind and thought that most important was to get work. Quanzhou is also closer to Min Hou and it would be easier to travel home during weekends. Someone had to make sure that my house would not go away and it would not be swimming in water. There had been problems with water coming through the walls!

The lady called again an hour later, it was almost 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and she asked if I could go to the school tomorrow?

Tomorrow? I had not heard from them in 20 days and now I should go with no preparation at all! I was not willing to let them treat my like an idiot and told her I could go next Wednesday. It was not just that I had not heard anything from the company in 20 days, I was going to drive to the school and did  not have a clue how to get to the highway from Min Hou.  Had never done that.

I went to my architect and he drove up the route into the highway and told me it was really easy. The day the lady called me I tried and got lost again and again. I had to find a solution. I called a student from a university  in my neighbourhood and asked if he wanted to come with me to Quanzhou. I knew he was studying for his exam. My stomach had many knots and I imagined me going on my own to Mongolia or God knows where. The young man was willing to come for a drive. We managed, after a while and some phone calls to my architect, to find the highway but of course we got lost. We drove past the driveway to the city and had to follow the highway for half an hour just to turn and another half an hour to get to the entrance. This was just an adventure and I saw the airport and we drove through the centre of the city.

The young man was carsick and was almost dead when we finally stopped.

We called the school. We asked someone to pick us up. No, that was not possible but the nice teacher  guided us through the streets of the city and finally we arrived at the school. It was almost 4 o’clock and I wanted to be home before dark. I was not at all sure how to get back home to Fuzhou and it had to be  before dark, if there was any hope for me to manage.

The teacher did not understand at all why I was in such a hurry. He found it strange to drive to Quanzhou and immediately back to Fuzhou. This was a bit similar to when I go to Hong Kong and back to Fuzhou 2 hours later, just to renew my VISA but of course he did not know that.

I saw the school, not the apartment, and the teacher came with us to the tollgate. He was not quite sure how to get there. Did not drive a car so of course we got lost and drove around but finally there was the gate. What a relieve. It was almost 5 o’clock and I still in Quanshou. I would be in Fuzhou when dark and how would I find my way home?

My destiny in the country was to be confused about where I was. All maps in Chinese and difficult to figure out where to turn right and where to the left.

Eventually we managed to get to Fuzhou and the young man wanted to see my house. That was not a problem. We arrived at the house at 8 in the evening, spent some time exploring the foreigners house and then I drove him home. An adventure I won´t forget and he probably not. He had never been to Quanzhou. He had never travelled in a car, just in trains and busses. Many of my Chinese friends have the same story to tell. It was heart warming to hear him admire the mountains and the scenery while we drove and even though I was not the best one to find my way and he was carsick, we had a good time and a good laugh as well. And the sun was shining.

The next day I had to get to the school on my own and that is a story for tomorrow.

Hulda Björnsdóttir

28th of October 2017

What can I do to help? I am just one person, powerless and the problem is huge.

When driving to Coimbra yesterday, through the national road, half way between Penela and Condeixa I stopped to take those photographs. I wanted to show you what I see every morning and every afternoon on my way back and forth.

I am not crying anymore. That is over. I am though sad and disappointed. Disappointed in the government for not taking action years ago, to stop the madness. They could have, but they did not.

Why they did not do anything I can not explain but to me it looks like there is some lack of common sense there. Don´t they see that something drastic needs to be done about a problem that has been escalating through my 7 years here in my little land? There was a committee, a new one, established after the fires in June this year. I have heard that the contributions to the people in Pedrogáo Grande have not been distributed yet. If that is true I am shocked. There is little use contributing if the clothes and other things are just sitting in some warehouse waiting.

Let me show you what is in front of my eyes every morning when driving to Coimbra.

These photos are from yesterday.

On one side of the road is destruction. On the other side everything is untouched by the fire. This tells me that it was not the wind but something else that made this happen only few days ago. Have those who lit the fires been found? I do not know.

There is more destruction in sight, just from where I was standing.

The devastation is complete. Naked trees, black soil, nothing left.

A sight like this is all around the centre and north of my little land. My land needs help. I am just one person, a foreigner, that has settled down and made my roots spread with love and passion for the little land. I am 72 years old, so as we say in my new land, I have got many years. These years are my life and they should be used for something good. Can I use them? Yes I can.

I am going to plant one tree for every year of my life. 72 trees I will plant this year. Next year there will be one more year added to my life and I will add one year to my contribution. Next year I will plant 73 trees. Slowly, I will use my added years to help my little land recovering from this years disaster.

The idea is mine, but I need help. I need help to make it real, and that is where my dear friends come into the picture. I have asked them to help. I don´t know anything about trees. I don´t know anything about what kind of trees would be best. I don´t know how to apply for this and get permission. My friends will help. I am not in super good health so I also need help with the planting. That is where my friends are also coming into the project.  I asked for help and they said YES without hesitation.

It will be exciting and it will make me feel amazing. Now I am just waiting for the process to begin. I will tell you about how we do. I am sure everyone will be interested.

I don´t know how many years I have left, they may be many or they may be few. I am not worried about the number. I am just going to use them well.

Hulda Björnsdóttir

24th of October 2017

This summer and many other summers the last 7 years there have been huge fires in my land.

Although this summer has been the worst, some of the others have also been really horrible. What had been added this year is the draught. The horrible lack of rain.

We are morning in my land. We are afraid in my land. We are on the verge of despair.

The devastation is immense.

Looking out of my window and seeing the beauty in the morning and in the afternoon the horror has taken over. People have lost their homes. People have lost their lives. People have lost everything. Companies have burned down to ashes. Animals have been sacrificed by the fires. I cry when I watch the news. Is it never going to end? I ask.

What can I do to help?

Where is the help?

What will the government do?

These questions have been struggling in my mind for some months. During this summer and particularly the latter part of it I have realised how deep my roots are in my little land. The land has taken me under its wings. Here I have friends, true friends, that are supporting me through thick and thin. Here I will bear my bones and here is my final destination on this earth.

I am not going anywhere soon, but eventually I will cross over and become a famous opera singer in my next life.

Now is the time to ask myself what I can do for my little land. For the land that not many decades ago was under dictatorship and is trying to become a modern democracy.

There are some things that need improvement but there are also other things that are perfect. The people and the friendships I have enjoyed are like diamonds and I appreciate each and everyone that has helped me, supported me, taken care of me when I needed and been there for me, always. Those are the people of my little land. Those are my friends. Now they need my help. What can I do?

I know what I can do. It came to me while I was driving through the beauty from Penela to Condeixa and the horror appeared. The wood has disappeared and there is just empty hollow black reality.

We need trees. We need to plant trees. We need to rebuild the woods that have burned this summer like no other summer.

It is easy to say; We need!

It is important to say; I can help and I can do something!

I am going to help.

I know what to do but not how to do it. I need help to be able to help.

I called my friend when I came home from the gym today. I asked her if she would help me. She said YES. She always does when I ask her.

I am going to plant a tree for every year of my living. I am 72 years old. That means 72 trees at least and one more every year until I leave this earth. I am going to plant the trees in my little land and help to rebuild the destruction.

I am not crying anymore. Now it is time to take action. There are rules and regulations that have to be respected. I don´t know anything about trees. I don´t know how to buy them or how or when to plant them. I don´t know what kind of trees would be proper, how big they should be and what species. Should there be oaks or pines or olive trees or some others. I don´t know. That is where I need help. I also need help to apply to the rules and regulations. This is where my friend and her family are going to step in. They are going to help me to do the right thing. I know where I want to plant. I want to plant in Molelos, which is a freguecia in Tondela. Tondela is in the north. My friends live there. My Portuguese family lives there and I want to plant my trees close to them.

I am excited today. This will be great. There will be an adventure every year for the rest of my live where I and my friends will plant trees in the name of love, love for our country and our environment.

Hulda Björnsdóttir

The sun was shining and it put kisses on her cheeks.

She was 3 years old.

The mother gave her a coin and the little girl got permission to go to the shop on the corner to buy a candy.

This was a fortune and not often that the little one got a shining coin for treats.

She ran out of the house, towards the shop, which was just a few meters away.

She fell.

She hurt her knee. There was a lot a blood.

She was almost at the shop.

The coin, that she kept in her tiny palm, bounced away, far away.

She was just a little girl and now her world collapsed. She saw a lot of blood. A lot of blood.

She made it home, crying, and the mother took her in her arms, scolded her a bit but when she saw the blood she said:

We need your father now!

The father was just next door; his house was a few meters away. Yes heard the girl screaming. His little girl, and he came over.

He smelled of cigars and medicine.

They put her on the kitchen table. She screamed. He looked at the knee. Some stiches needed here, he said. The little one did not know what that meant, but she knew that when the father came over she was always put to bed and the door closed. He  closed the door. She did not like the  door closed. She was afraid of the dark and she did not like here father who let her stay alone in the dark, while he was talking to the mother.

The mother never closed the door.

Sometimes the mother was working when the little girl went to bed but she never, never closed the door. The door was always open and she could hear her mother using the sowing machine and she could see the light.

It was just the father that closed the door, when he came over, most of the time in the evening when she was already in bed, and he always, always, closed the door.

Now the little girl just wanted to be in her mothers arms and cry. Why did the father have to come when she was in so much pain and there was so much blood? So much red blood.

The problem was that the father and the doctor were the same man.

Now it was not dark outside.

Maybe it would not be dark in the room if he closed the door.

The doctor made the stiches and left.

He did not have to talk to the mother this time.

That was good.

She was safe.

The little one got another coin and went to the shop, now with the mother. They bought 2 candies, one for the mother and one for herself.

The sun was shining again.

22.october 2017

In my land there are regulations about how to behave in a condominium.

Those regulations are, I recon, to be followed.

Well, there are regulations and there are customs. They don´t always walk hand in hand.

As a foreigner I tried to follow the law just to make sure the neighbours would not kill me, the bloody foreigner that rocked the boat.

Every week I wash my clothes and try to dry them outside, when the weather is good. I have a huge balcony, which was at the beginning, and not until last year, open. Last year I put up a glass wall so now everything is closed if I like to, which I  quite often do.

My neighbours, upstairs, have 2 days per week where the cleaner comes and among other things she does is washing the laundry. Unlike me she hangs the laundry outside the balcony.

This is understandable in a way, she gets more wind and the laundry dries faster. The problem though is that this is not allowed according to the Portuguese law. You can not hang your laundry further down than your balcony floor.

As you can see in the pictures above this is a bit, a BIT beneath their balcony floor and stretches down to my view from my balcony. I just have to reach up and can touch the linnen, which of course I don´t. I am a well behaved woman!

I discussed this problem with a friend of mine in Iceland. He suggested I cut the laundry, the cutting should be from my balcony ceiling and those upstairs would get the message.

Of course I did not cut anything. If had I would not be writing this, for sure I would either be in prison or dead. No doubt in my mind.

Even though I did think about it. I thought about cutting the bead sheet, I thought about it every week. I visualized  it. It was real in my mind, but I did not act on, I did not dare.

Maybe you can spray a paint on it, said my friend.

I did not have any paint in my house and was definitely not going to spend money on the horrible, annoying clothes. No way.

One day, when I came home, this was on Friday, the sheets washing day, I heard a loud discussion above me. The mistress of the house was home and she was furious. What had happened? I was a bit scared.   I had not done anything, I was sure of that. I had thought about it but thoughts don´t materialize, or do they? No, they don´t. I’m not that powerful.

Anyway, the lady upstairs was talking to the people living in next condominium. She was hanging her sheets out and making sure they got as far down to my balcony as possible.

She was telling the lady that I had put a red paint on their  sheets!

Seriously!

This was too much. There was no red paint in my apartment and had never been. I did not have ANY paint at all. The painters had finished painting 2 years ago and my apartment was whitish.

Well, she was convinced that there was read paint on her sheets. I could not do anything about that. For several weeks the sheets you see in the pictures above, the yellow ones, she patted like a baby and hung again and again and again, always making sure it went as far as possible down to block my view.

She hated me, there was no doubt bout that. When I came home and she was leaving with her daughters she made sure the front door was closed. Closed in my nose. What a wonderful upbringing that was. I took out my keys and made sure that if I was leaving and she was coming home I left the front door open for her and even stood there until she had entered. I tried to be polite. That was my revenge.

The laundry does not go quite as far down as before, but now I have got a glass wall and her laundry washes the upper part of my glass. Does she hate me? I don´t think so, not anymore, but there is no lost love between us. The holy ones are nice and considerate, there is no doubt about that! There is no way that I am going take the blame when the laundry upstairs gets dirty while washing my windows. It is not my responsibility, not at all.

Isn,t life wonderful?

Hulda Björnsdóttir

20th of October 2017

On my walks through Fuzhou I often came across interesting people.

I am interested in people and there are always adventures meeting new ones.

One day I was there and came across those two.

Here is a father with his son on the scooter. The son strapped so he won´t fall off. The father with a helmet but not strapped. Just an ordinary day in the Chinese traffic in Fuzhou!

They are the younger generation. I asked if I could take a photo and that was ok and they happy to please the foreigner. These 2 live in the city and always have. They don´t know about the struggle that comes with poverty. That is good. The little one will be spoiled and then he goes to school and the hardship arrives. In school he will have to obey rules. He will have to study hard and make his parents proud. The parents will see the headmaster and the teachers and they will tell how the little one is doing. Sometimes it is difficult to leave home and not see your family every day. Those who live in the dormitory, those who come from faraway, sometimes suffer from loneliness and are home sick. There is nothing to do about it. This is Chinese life. Those who live nearby are lucky. The parents pick them up every night and bring them back to school in the morning.  How will it be for the little on in the picture above? I wonder, but now he is happily enjoying sitting on his fathers scooter, driving through Fuzhou.

Then I came across these 2, the women with their story written on their faces.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Have you ever thought about how beautiful wrinkles are? They tell the story no one will tell you. The mother and daughter in these photos have a story to tell. They have been living in the land for decades. They have experienced the change and they have been part of the growth.

The mother was a farmer but now she has moved to her daughter in Fuzhou and lives with her the last part of her being on this earth. When the daughter gets old her children will take care of her. The circle goes on and on.

The mothers wrinkles tell the story of hardship. The story of struggling to have food on the table and to be able to send her children to school.  She did not go to school but her child did. This is the story of so many families. Then came the time when the farmers had to give way to the newly rich and their buildings. The farmers moved to the cities and the government made new houses, new islands, new condominiums, all for the rich ones.

In Min Hou I got6 to know one farmer who did not want to move. He was in his little cottage in the middle of the school premises. There was no way he was going to leave. The government was going to pay him for his land. No, that was not it. This was his land, his home, his living was there and no one going to convince him that a better life was waiting in the city. Eventually he had to give in and one day the little cottage and the farmer were not there anymore. It was sad. It was sad to see first hand how the luxury of the rich ones affected the poorer.

That evening, when I drove to my house, I thought about who and how many farmers had to be moved so I could live in my luxury house? Where did they go? Did they still live in the neighbourhood? Had they found work?

My beautiful district is  handmade islands. Islands made on the farmers land.  Islands that make my life beautiful and serene but what about the farmers that left? Are the ones I see when I leave my area those who had to sacrifice their homes for me? They are all friendly when I meet them. I have not asked where they come from. I don´t dare to.

Hulda Björnsdóttir

20th of October 2017

One of my neighbours had a dog.

Dogs are not allowed in the are. At least not walking free. If there are dogs allowed they have to be small, the owners have to carry them on their arms, they can not walk on the road and they can not be running around like this one did.

These neighbours did not live in their house all the time. They came sometimes during weekends, and sometimes during holidays. I’m sure they worked somewhere, at least the man. The woman was the boss. She was the boss and  the workers had to obey her command.

She was the one who shouted at the workers if they did not do what she told them to do. She was definitely the boss and the husband perhaps the provider. Interesting couple and they had a daughter. She was maybe 20 something. At least  not a teenager. She came sometimes with the parents, after the house was decorated, and she even spent some days in the island.

With her came the dog.

The white dog.

The big dog.

The dog that everyone was afraid of.

In the morning the daughter let out the white one to pee. She just opened the door and he sprang out. After a while she came out in her pyjamas, trying to get the naughty one inside. She begged, she threatened, she was nice, she was mad, she was everything, but the dog had a blast and wrapped her around his finger. No problem there. Usually she went inside without him.

When the security guards came on their scooters the dog had a blast. He barked at them and jumped at them, he bit their heals and was having a blast. The guards were afraid of him. He followed them everywhere.

This was the dog that one morning stood at my front door barking.

Oh no, you are not going to stand barking at my door, at my house, and think you can intimidate me.

No way. Now you are going to see where David bought the ale, stupid dog, I said inside my door, contemplating what to do.

Well, something needed to be done about this. The workers were afraid of the dog, they could not come to the area  on their scooters. Even on their scouters they were attacked. Well, not attacked but barked at and intimidated and nipped at.

Now he was standing at my door, barking like hell, and I decided to feed him!

I opened the door and gave him an apple. An apple!

He looked at me, I looked at him, he looked at the apple and I looked mad.

Oh, she is mean, he must have thought. She just thinks I am going to eat an apple in the morning, an apple, seriously!

Yes you ugly stupid dog, you are going to eat this apple. I have got more and that is all you get. You are mean and I am meaner. I am not afraid of you and you better stop barking at my door.

He looked at me, and ate the apple.

I went outside, to take a walk.

You can come with me if you behave, I said.

He followed me. We took a long walk, a really long one. He got tired and went home ahead of me.

He never barked at my door, not anymore. I won the staring.

I am not saying we became best friends but I spoke to him in Icelandic that sounds quite harsh and he was used to Chinese begging. There was no begging at my part and he just waited outside my door the next morning for his apple and a walk.

Hulda Björnsdóttir

19th of October 2017

Last weekend was horrible.

The country was on fire.

The tiny country, my country, my little and in many ways primitive land was on fire.

47 deaths are confirmed today, or that number are the last one I heard the authorities tell on TV yesterday. Today I have not opened the TV. I can’t.

My heart is broken.

When I drove to Coimbra yesterday and saw the devastation around the national highway the feeling was like something ugly was crushing my heart.

The beautiful robust green trees that looked like broccolis, were dead. They were all black. Just on the left side of the road. The right side did not catch the fire. Because one side is safe the devastation is even more visual.

I have driven this road almost every day, these 7 years I have lived in my tiny country. I know every twist and turn. I know every hole, and I know where the hookers are. I have watched the farmers pick their crops, their grapes and the olives. I have seen the happiness and joy when there is a good crop and I have seen the farmers traveling in their tractors and their friends and family sitting or standing on the trailer. I have seen life and joy on this road, but today it was death I saw.

My first year here in my land I went to Viera De Leiria and there is a beautiful beach. On the road to the Leiria there is a huge pine forest. A huge one. Evergreen, and always full of pines. I picked up pines to use in my home to light the fire. Every year I picked up pines there, filled my car with bags who held the fresh wonderful pines. It took abut half an hour to fill up the bags. The pines were everywhere. Then I went to the beach and spent the day there in the sunshine and listened to the sound of the waves and watched the fishermen landing their catch. This was my heaven during the summer.

Now there is no pine forest. The devastation is complete. Nothing left.

Today Portugal is in morning.

Today is rain and we praise the higher power for answering our prayers. The drought had been complete this year. Everything is dry. The rain is not too heavy, if it was there might be land slights all around. In my tiny land there is not much lowland and the houses and the villages are built on the mountain side.

When I drove to Coimbra today I noticed that some of the trees are leaning more to the side than they did last week. They are sad and heartbroken just like me.

In one of the villages 50 houses destroyed. In another one a 90 year old woman was rescued and moved to a shelter. She had been picking up her cabbage but was told she needed to come. She left with her rescuers. When she came back her house was gone. Nothing but burned ruins. She is 90 years old.

Today we share this beautiful white bird of peace.

Today we remember the victims.

We are grateful for the cold and rain. The government says they did not expect fires in October. I have been here 7 summers and 7 Octobers. Every October there has been a fire. Not as terrible as this year, but always some. The excuses are lame.

We are morning the victims. Their lives cut short in a moment of madness.

Hulda Björnsdóttir