I strap on my helmet and carry my bright blue fixed gear road bike across the overpass that connects my building with my neighbors’. The sight of the mountains on the horizon and the bright blue sky takes my breath away with their beauty as I stare out across the landscape before I take the elevator 15 floors down to street level. It’s 5:15 pm and it’s the height of rush hour. I plunge into the flow of cars passing the entrance to my building and I’m on my way, weaving in and out of traffic. I pedal past cart vendors and busses and stop at the bicycle shop for air in my tires. I’m on my way again, the crisp late afternoon air is warm and breezy against my skin and the sun warms my face. The traffic is backed up to a near crawl, and I zoom past the bumper to bumper traffic, delighted that I am faster than the BMWs and Mercedes and other fancy SUVs that I don’t know the name of that glint and shine with polish in the sun.
I can’t go too fast because I am constantly weaving in and out of cars. The construction for the city’s first subway line is well underway and has wreaked havoc with the traffic—my street is now one way, and the once open and lively bazaar is enclosed on all sides by tall blue tin walls that “protect yours, mine, and their safety” during the construction. I make it to the center of the city and I stop at a red light, marveling at the near silence that envelopes me in the middle of a long line of cars heading home after a tiring day’s work. I can hardly believe my ears and I wonder if the government has instigated a no-honking campaign. We sit together quietly underneath towering skyscrapers interrupted by the dome of a mosque as we wait for the light to turn green.
I make it to the gym and the ladies at the front desk greet me with smiles and hellos (“back so soon!” they exclaim).
I walked into the jiujitsu dojo and immediately noticed that Coach Wang had lost a ton of weight. His potbelly was gone and his face was slim. Compared to last fall, he was extremely youthful looking. He looked very small and almost skinny!
“26 pounds,” he told me when I exclaimed about it. He said he was cutting weight for an upcoming competition in Shanghai and he was still one kilo overweight.
We caught up. Then we rolled. He was slow and calculating in his movements, and eventually he submitted me. I was happy and impressed by his improvement.
He said I had gotten stronger, and my technique had improved. He reported that the power and skill of my legs in particular had gotten better.
I said that I'd participated in three competitions in the States since I'd been gone.
Coach Zhi asked me to give him some advice: What do you do against a stronger opponent? What about an opponent who has better technique than you?
I didn't really know how to answer. I told him that in competition and on the street, you don't have time to stop and think, you just have to think to yourself, “I gotta kill this person.”
"But don't actually kill them, right?" he joked, laughing.
I also rolled with Lin, a white belt, and submitted him. I told him he'd improved.
“You're only 19!” I said, “You have so much time. You see I'm 26 and I'm still a blue belt!”
“And I'm 35 and I'm a white belt!” Yin Jiaolian said, laughing. “If only I'd met you when I was 26!” he said.
Age and progress is a funny thing. When you start something new means a lot and also doesn't mean anything at all at the same time.
I did a few more rolls with Lin, who submitted me at one point. Everyone said, “hasn't he improved so much so quickly?” I agreed.
I helped Coach Wang a little bit more. He wanted tips on guard passing, mount escapes and the front collar choke.
When we rolled, I passed his guard several times, and we worked on side control, and we worked on some escapes and I rolled with each of them once more.
The adorable, skinny girl with braces came up to me. I gave her a hug, and she said, "Oh! You're back!" She put both hands on her face and jumped up and down with her mouth open.
She asked me some more questions: "Did you enjoy Christmas with your family? How long will you stay? When and how did you get here?" She looked shocked when I told her I'd come on the train from Nanjing: "That's so far and such a long ride!" 42 hours exactly.
Before I left, I gave Coach Wang two hugs. Lin hugged me a couple times too, saying he was so glad to have me back. I wished them safety on their road home.
It was so nice to see them and have a little community, a little jiujitsu family, people I can feel comfortable hugging, and people I'm genuinely excited to see and who are genuinely excited to see me. People who want to see me.
One of my coaches warns me to change out of my rash guard lest I get cold, and to wear my helmet on the ride home.
When I leave the gym, it’s already completely dark. A man outside is selling strawberries for 10 kuai a kilo. I buy half a kilo and put them in my backpack. The bus stop attendant recognizes me and we exchange pleasantries before I hop on my bike and head home. The ride home is uphill and it takes me almost twice as long to get home.
It’s dinner time and I can taste the spicy peppers the restaurants are cooking with. I ride past the business district ablaze with massive jumbo trons blazing blinding light full of never-ending commercials for tea that helps you fall asleep and lose weight, and the new home you’ve always dreamed of. The road is lined with towering concrete office buildings covered in flashing neon lights with Chinese restaurants on the street level. I can see through the large windows of the tables full of male suited businessmen negotiating over drinks and apparently very spicy food.
When I get home, I’m too exhausted to cook. I wash and eat the strawberries but I can taste the pesticide. I eat them anyway, hoping the vitamins from the fruit will cancel out any bad effects. I take a cold shower and collapse into bed too tired to even get dressed or brush my hair. I know it’s going to be a good year. Tiring as hell, lonely like nothing else, challenging, but good. The insomnia I struggled with since last summer seems to have abated with the powerful tug of jet lag and soon I’m lost in sleep, dreaming of the friends I left behind in the States.
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