From Ice to Earthquakes

Leaving behind the cold of a New England winter wasn’t hard to do. Despite enduring what would turn out to be 50 hours of flights and layovers. The rout was an unusual one: over Canada then down across China. During the daylight hours, stunning views of misty snow-covered mountains spread as far as the eye could see. It was several transfers later that I finally left snow and ice behind, stepped out of the plane and into a world where the air is so humid and fragrant it’s like walking into a tropical greenhouse.

After making it to the hotel room, staying awake long enough for a cold shower was a feat of sheer willpower. Collapsing into bed, I was asleep within minutes.

You know you’re not in Kansas (or indeed any part of the US) when you are woken by Muslim prayers being broadcast around the city. But I wasn’t expecting to be woken up by an earthquake. Especially because I was in a jetlagged-induced coma. I forced myself into consciousness when my bed seriously started shaking. There was a loud rumbling from everywhere and a few distant screams. Even half asleep it’s easy to recognize an earthquake. It’s hard, however, to give a damn when you’re that exhausted. So I went back to sleep, enjoying the fact that the room was still moving. Later, when the Muslim prayers started, I was rested enough to think about finally getting out of bed.